


The Owl Prince

by K_K_TiBal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, Cursed Castiel, Curses, Friends to Lovers, M/M, The Swan Princess AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2018-08-16 12:18:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8102161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_K_TiBal/pseuds/K_K_TiBal
Summary: Prince Dean and Prince Castiel have been betrothed for a very long time. Close as they may have been in childhood, spending eight years apart from each other is enough to make anyone strangers yet again. When their gleeful reunion ends with a curse placed on Castiel by a vengeful witch, what lengths will Dean and Castiel go to find each other again?Hopefully, to the stars and back. tl;dr - The Swan Princess AU but gayer and with owls





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whelvenwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whelvenwings/gifts).



> A birthday fic for the lovely [Whelvenwings](http://whelvenwings.tumblr.com)! With art from [Castihalo](http://castihalo.tumblr.com)! Happy birthday Emily<3
> 
> THIS IS A WIP AND IS NOT YET COMPLETED BUT DAMMIT IT WILL BE

***

“Um... a bird!” Dean shouted.

Castiel nodded enthusiastically but continued to flap his arms like wings.

“Bird! I said bird!”

Castiel took a brief moment to huff in frustration as he cupped his hands together and placed them in front of his hysterically widened eyes.

“Bird watching? Bird watching!” Dean jumped to his feet and pointed to Castiel.

Castiel made an exasperated sound. “No, Dean. It’s a _type_ of bird. You were closer before.”

Dean made a furious shushing sound. “Cas you’re not allowed to talk! Don’t cheat.”

“ _Fine_.” Castiel took a deep breath and interchanged between the flapping gestures and the circles over his eyes.

“Hawk. Wait- Falcon!” Dean shouted, remembering that they’d spent some of the morning watching the royal falconers train a new set of birds.

Castiel shook his head and used his fingers to spread his eyelids open even wider.

“Oh, an owl! You’re an owl!”

Castiel flopped down onto the grass next to the oak tree as he laughed out loud. “Yes, I was an owl. That took you too long.”

Dean stuck his tongue out settled himself next to Castiel and began absentmindedly tearing out fistfuls of grass and sprinkling them on his legs. He frowned when he remembered the news that Castiel’s parents had brought with them when they visited this time.

“So how long d’you think you’ll be gone?” Dean asked in a small voice. Castiel was his best friend in the whole world and the idea that these visits would stop completely for a long time didn’t sit well with him at all. What was he going to do without him? Who was going to help him sneak Chef Harvelle’s pies out of the kitchen?

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know. My father said that proper schooling takes a long time and that it would be over before I know it.”

Dean let out an unsatisfied breath of air. “Well, why don’t _I_ have to go to special school? If it’s so important I should be going with you.”

Castiel shrugged again, picking at the grass along with Dean. “I wish I knew. I don’t really want to go, but at least father promised there would be lots of books for me to read.”

Dean snorted and shook his head. Castiel always brought at least two new books with him every time his family visited and sometimes it took some coaxing from Dean’s side to get him to go play outside in the palace courtyard with him. Not a lot, usually, but some.

“There are books for you to read _here,”_ Dean muttered and folded his arms against his chest. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“We can still write letters?” Castiel suggested and rolled onto his stomach to get a better view of Dean’s face. “I’ll write all the time and tell you what I’m learning and you can tell me what you’re doing.”

Dean grimaced. Letters were fine but they weren’t going to be as good as spending time with Cas whenever they visited each other. Nothing could be the real deal, but he supposed if it was all they were going to have, it would have to do.

“Alright. But I’m still gonna miss you.” Dean slowly stood back onto his feet and began to pat himself down to brush all of the excess grass off of himself. His mother was already going to be displeased about the grass stains on his tunic so it was best if he didn’t trail anything from the outside into the castle.

Castiel clambered to his feet and attempted a smile as he stared at his friend. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

They stood just a foot apart from each other for a few moments before Castiel abruptly dragged Dean into a hug.

For a split second everything was fine, then from directly behind him Dean heard the familiar whistle of an arrow fly past him. Whipping his head around, he saw what was indeed an arrow embed itself into the ground a few feet past where he’d been standing and had Cas not pulled him into a hug, he would have been hit.

“Run!” Dean’s instincts kicked into overdrive as he took Castiel by the hand and shoved him ahead towards the door to the castle. Around him, he could see guards already alert and yelling orders as they looked for the archer. Castiel looked behind them as they sprinted to the door, obviously sensing the severity of the situation but looked as though he had no idea what was happening.

Dean cried out when a sharp pain in his side followed another whistle as the arrow just managed to nick him in the ribs and continue blazing past him.

“Keep going!” he shouted as Castiel looked like he was going to stop to wait for him. He pressed a hand to his side and they just managed to make it inside as another arrow hit the door that they shut behind them.

Staff immediately surrounded the two of them, and Dean could hear a lot of shouting and running around as panic ensued.

“What _happened_?”

“Your Highness are you alright?”

“Who did this?”

“Dean. _Dean.”_

Dean looked up when he realized he’d slid down the wall to sit on the ground.The world started to spin as he unclamped his hand from his side and looked at the blood that was covering it.

The last thing he saw before he fainted was Castiel’s concerned face looking down at him.

***

“Yes, that’s what I heard.”

“But his _sister?”_

“I don’t see why not. This proves that we shouldn't be trusting the Novaks.”

“Hush. Don’t talk that way.”

Dean blinked his eyes open blearily as he tried to get accustomed to his surroundings. It took a few moments before he realized that he was in his own bed, carefully tucked into the blankets as two women that he recognized as castle healers bustled around his room.

“What’s going on?” he mumbled and attempted to sit himself up despite the tight wrapping around his midsection. “Where’s Cas?”

The two immediately were at his side and one brought a cup of water to his lips which he drank, not realizing how thirsty he was.

“Prince Castiel is in the throne room with the rest of the royal families. They’re deciding the fate of your attacker, now.”

The other nurse shook her head and propped a few pillows behind Dean. “No, your attacker is dead. However, the one who _paid_ the attacker is...being dealt with.”

Dean frowned and folded his arms in front of his chest. That was all information he could process later. Right now what he wanted was to see Cas and let him know he was okay and to wipe away the upset face that he last remembered.

“I wanna see Cas.”

The older of the two women pursed her lips and made a disappointed clicking sound. “I think it’s best if you stay away from the Novaks for the time being.”

Dean had enough experience trying to get his way that he recognized when someone was too set in their opinion to change it by demanding and opted for the sneakier solution.

Dean yawned widely and nodded. “Fine. Later, then.” He rubbed his stomach dramatically. “But I’m hungry. Can I get something to eat, please?”

The older woman smiled politely, apparently relieved that Dean hadn't pushed the subject. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

Dean waited for just a few minutes after she’d left before he gasped. “Oh! Would you tell her that I’d like some fresh milk as well?” he asked, addressing the other healer that was left to watch over him. “Please? I’d really like some.”

“Of course, your Highness.”

As soon as Dean could hear the sound of her footprints disappear, he threw off the covers and only winced a little as he stood. The wound barely hurt, and he was fairly sure that he’d had some sort of pain relieving herb because the right side of his body felt vaguely numb. Still, there wasn’t any red to be seen on the wrapping, so he pulled a red tunic over his head and padded down the hallway towards the throne room.

The throne room was bound to be heavily guarded so Dean opted not to use any of the front doors and instead decided to use the winding staircase that led to the seats that looked down on the entire throne room. Normally it was where some of the guests would go to mingle during balls or other important events, but was rarely used outside of anything fancy so he was confident that it would be unused. There were muffled voices that were coming from the throne room, and none of them sounded too pleasant. He was breathing a little heavier by the time he reached the very top but was relieved to see that he was right in assuming he’d be the only spectator.

“-and with you named as the benefactor-” Dean’s ears perked up when he heard Cas’s father speaking sternly, ”-I’d like to ask what you have to say for yourself.”

Dean peeked up over the stone balcony and watched the scene unfold. Both of the royal families were seated high up on the thrones, looking down at the throne room and- in particular- a chained woman.

The woman looked regal in her dark dress and fine jewelry, but was clamped together at the wrists with chains and had guards on either side of her. Dean squinted at her and gasped, recognizing the stormy expression the Cas’s aunt - Lady Amara.

What was she doing in chains?

“What have I to say for myself?” Her voice was cold even as it reached Dean high above her. “What have _I?_ Dear brother, what have _you?_ ”

There was a loud clanking sound as she took a step forward and was immediately held back by the guards.

“Seven years. Seven _years_ we were at war with the Kingdom of Winchester. People we knew and loved were crushed under their thumb. And now you seek an alliance with them? I did this for you. For _us._ ” It was difficult to make out from where he was, but it looked as if Lady Amara was seething.

King Charles shook his head. “And just as many of their loved ones were crushed by us. That is the nature of war, Amara. But that war has been ended for longer than it was battled. The time for resentment is over. The Kingdom of Winchester has become a favorable ally. So I ask again: What have you to say for yourself?”

There was a long pause. Dean strained his ears so he wouldn’t miss anything.

“I say that next time I try and cut off the head of a treaty before it can grow,” Amara spat, “I hire someone with better aim.”

There was a murmur through the small crowd as Cas’s father leaned over to briefly conference with King John. After a few moments, he held his hand up and all sounds cut off abruptly.

“Lady Amara,” King Charles said so everyone in the court could hear. “You are charged with the attempted assassination of Prince Dean Winchester and you are found guilty. You are charged with treason against the crown.”

“Not _our_ crown!” She shouted.

Dean brought a hand up to his side, a phantom pain springing from where he knew the arrow had spliced him.

“Because you are my sister,” King Charles continued, talking over her, “You will not be given the death sentence. Something that the Winchesters have consented to.”

Another murmur throughout the crowd.

“However, you will be stripped of all titles, land, and connections. You are no one. You are hereby banished from the Kingdom of Winchester and Novak and any allying Kingdoms. If you set foot here again, we will not be so lenient. Dismissed.”

Dean watched as the guards grabbed her arms and began dragging her backward out of the throne room.

“ _How dare you!”_ She shrieked as she struggled against them, but she didn’t seem to be talking to the guards, just to her brother. “You’re _weak_ for allying yourself with these savages! It will be your downfall! _I_ will be your downfall. I’m your sister and you-”

The large doors shut behind her.

King Charles wearily slumped in his seat. “It appears we overstayed our welcome.” Dean could just barely hear him over the small chattering. “Thank you again. Apologies again for the entire situation.”

Dean’s father clapped him on the back and said something back that Dean couldn’t quite make out.

“We will be leaving shortly.”

King Charles signaled to some guards with the Novak seal on their chests and Dean finally saw Castiel seated between them on the side of the room. The two guards weren’t necessarily dragging him away but they weren’t being very polite about it either.

“Wait, _wait,”_ Dean could faintly hear Castiel protesting. “I want to see Dean first.”

Dean’s twelve-year-old heart panicked when he realized that the Novaks were about to leave.

And he wouldn’t get to see Cas for a long time after they left.

Barely even watching his step, Dean raced down the spiral staircase and rushed for the door at the opposite entrance, hoping to catch Castiel before he was gone. As he reached the front entrance of the throne room, one of the guards recognized him and immediately blocked his path. “Prince Dean, you need to be resting. What are you doing out of your chambers?”

Dean tried to sidestep the man but was gently held at arm’s length.

“Please, I need to see- Cas!”

Dean tried to make another run for it as he saw Castiel getting ushered out towards the front doors, but was held back with an iron grip. Castiel whipped around when he heard Dean’s voice and struggled against his own bodyguards.

“Wait, stop! Let me-”

“Cas!”

“Dean!”

“I’ll write to you!”

“I can’t- Dean!”

Dean was left straining against the guard that was insisting he return to his chambers as the large wooden doors closed behind Castiel, cutting off all forms of communication.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Cas,_

_How are you doing?_

_Um, I guess I should start with how I’m doing, actually. I’m better! The arrow wound wasn’t too bad, and I healed up pretty quick. I was even allowed to go riding a week after it happened. The nurse said that I’ll always have a scar there, but Sir Benjamin was telling me that scars look cool._

_I guess he would know. He’s got a lot of them._

_I’ve officially started sword training with Sir Benjamin! I guess they decided it was time I learned after...well you know._

_Sir Benjamin says I’m a natural at it, but I think he might just be saying that to make me feel better about myself because I can’t hit anything and it feels like the sword is always too heavy. I guess I’ll just get used to it._

_Anyway, I miss you._

_How’s that fancy school you’re going to? Not nearly as cool as our castle, right?_

 

_-Dean Winchester_

 

_Dear Dean,_

_I’m happy to hear that you’re doing better. I was very worried about you for a while, but it seemed fairly obvious that you’d live once I saw you trying to run around the palace guards._

_Scars do look cool._

_I’m sure Sir Benjamin is being honest with you. He seems the type to not beat around the bush about things like this. If he says you’re a natural, I believe him. I’m sure it won’t be long before you can slay dragons._

_This school is fantastic! Obviously, I wish you were here with me, but I have a feeling you’d hate it here. There are half a dozen of the world’s top scholars that teach me regularly on all sorts of subjects and the library is enormous! There are books for anything you can possibly imagine. Right now I’m reading about the history of our nation and memorizing different peace treaties. Did you know that people used to sign treaties in actual blood?? That sounds gross to me._

_I wish you could visit, but apparently, no one save students and teachers are allowed inside._

_I miss you, too._

_And it would definitely give your castle a run for its money._

 

_-Castiel Novak_

 

_Dear Cas,_

_This was the first birthday I remember celebrating without you. It was THE WORST. I mean, it was alright, but it would have been better if you were there to help me try and smuggle some more of the cake up to my room to eat later. Sam tried to help me but he kept getting caught and I can’t have that in a crime partner._

_Thank you for the present, by the way! I wasn’t expecting you to send me anything, but I’m sure as soon as Sir Benjamin finds out I have a book on sword fighting techniques he’ll quiz me on it._

_Yesterday I almost died of thirst because Sir Benjamin (he told me last week to call him Benny) wouldn’t let me drink any water until I could land a hit on him with a wooden sword. It took three hours before I finally tricked him into thinking I’d sprained my ankle, then whacked him over the head with it when he tried to look at it._

_I was REALLY thirsty._

_I hope you’re having fun at your school._

_Wait no._

_I hope you get very bored- so bored that you decide to run away to come visit me and then I get to see you again._

_But either way._

 

_-Dean Winchester_

 

_Dear Dean,_

_It’s been raining here non-stop for the past six days and I’m beginning to think that someone here has thoroughly upset a weather witch. It’s not that I mind the rain - I actually quite enjoy it-but six days is a bit excessive by my standards. I can’t go out and ride in the downpour which is making me feel slightly stir-crazy, so I’m writing you to distract myself. Also because it’s been too long since we’ve talked so this is a decent excuse._

_Though I must say, on nights when it’s not raining, you can see just how beautiful the stars are. There’s something about this place that makes them seem about ten times brighter than usual. I wish I could reach out and touch one, but last time I mentioned that to one of the scholars they quite haughtily explained to me that stars are very far away. The farthest distance we know, in fact._

_I think I’m going to start saying that now, anytime someone asks how far I’d go or what I’d do for something._

_“To the stars and back”, I’ll say._

_I keep getting scolded by some of the scholars for “asking far too many questions” but I think that is utterly ridiculous. I discovered a book on witchcraft the other day that I found fascinating but that was also taken from me before I could finish it. How am I to rule properly if I don’t know as much about everything as I possibly can? The saying is that knowledge is power so I will try and arm myself as heavily as I can._

_Speaking of, how does your training go? I’m learning some different fighting techniques here, but I’m sure it’s not nearly as in-depth and vigorous as yours seem to be, and has fewer weapons involved. Have you managed to do anything properly without cheating yet?_

_I hope you respond soon._

 

_Sincerely,_

_-Castiel Novak_

 

_Dear Castiel,_

_Damn that sounds way too dreary for me. We get our fair share of rain here, but definitely not that much._

_My training is going really good; Benny keeps telling me I’m improving but it’s hard to feel that way when I keep getting the footwork wrong. I got to bed every day pretty much totally exhausted because of how intense the workout is. I’m sure one day I’ll get used to it._

_Alright so._

_Um._

_I don’t know how to say this so I’m just gonna come out and ask:_

_Did you know we’re betrothed?_

_Apparently, we have been for a while, so like, I guess I just want to know what you think about it?_

_Anyway._

 

_-Dean Winchester_

 

_ _

 

_Dear Dean,_

_I had just got done reading a letter from my father about that very thing when your letter was delivered to me. No, I wasn’t aware of any betrothal before now._

_I see that you want me to tell you my thoughts on it before you tell me yours (in what I assume is some sort of self-defense mechanism) so I will._

_I like you._

_I think you’re easy to get along with and I enjoy reading your letters. I like that we’ve been able to maintain a friendship for the past four years despite not seeing each other. I’m sure that we’ve both changed a lot, but I like the glimpse of you that I can see through your writing. I don’t think I would mind ruling a kingdom or two alongside you at all, and I hope you feel the same._

_However, I do recall that you snore very loudly, so you will be hit in your sleep if that happens during our marriage._

 

_Yours,_

_-Castiel Novak_

 

_Dear Cas,_

_Okay so first off, smartass, I do NOT snore in my sleep so there won’t be any issues with that. But I sure do remember that you were one hell of a blanket-hog so I’ll have to fight for that all night long and that might be a dealbreaker._

_Not to mention the drool._

_So much drool._

_But in reality...thanks. I’m pretty okay with it but I didn’t want this to make anything awkward between us. At least we know that we (probably) won’t be at each other’s throats for our whole reign. Could be worse, right? At least we didn’t have to marry Abaddon or Fergus or something. I think I might actually fake my death if I had to marry one of those trolls._

_I know my parents married because of an arrangement and they get along alright. Not perfectly, but they didn’t even know each other before their wedding day and that kinda sucks._

_Maybe that’s why they made sure we knew each other._

_Hope all’s well in that fancy school of yours; I’m sticking to beating the shit out of some other knights._

 

 _Love_ _,_

_-Dean Winchester_

 

_Dear Dean,_

_I am guilty of stealing blankets. I won’t fault you that one. But I suppose we’ll just have to have several blankets for us on the bed so we’re both happy._

_Oh, Gods._

_I suddenly am very glad that my parents didn’t ally themselves too closely with Abaddon and Fergus’s families. Faking death sounds like an excellent plan to get out of a wedding. Though that might be a touch morbid. Perhaps just a disappearance. Leave the mystery open._

_I am doing very well in my studies, thank you for asking. I just finished a book on battle strategies that made me think of you._

_We’re travelling a lot around to neighboring kingdoms and villages to get out-of-book experiences in the real world and I am thoroughly enjoying myself. I hope that once we rule we don’t coop ourselves up in a castle for the rest of our lives. I’d like to travel more and experience other things. Spread my wings, so to speak. What do you think?_

 

_Always yours,_

_-Castiel Novak_

 

_Dear Cas,_

_I don’t think I know the answers to any of your questions. I think travelling is a great idea, but I don’t know how realistic that would be._

_But also, we’ll be Kings._

_Who’s gonna stop us?_

_Sorry about the shorter letter this time, but I’m training hard these next few days and I don’t have much time to write._

 

_Love,_

_-Dean Winchester_

 

_Dear Dean,_

_I keep thinking about how the last time I saw you, I was torn away from you._

_I know that it was long ago and that I haven’t seen you since, but I never want that to happen again._

_When we finally meet again, I hope you’ll keep in mind that we’ve both changed drastically. I hate to admit it but I’m paranoid that you’ll meet me and decide that I’m not who you had set in your mind and be forever disappointed._

_I think we need to be ready to adapt and accept who we are as people in order for this to work._

_Apologies for the dreary tone,_

 

_-Castiel Novak_

 

_Dear Cas,_

_I’m in this with you._

_To the stars and back._

 

_Always yours,_

_Dean Winchester_

 


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel had amassed seventy-four letters in total over the course of their eight years apart, each signed in the slowly improving script of one Prince Dean Winchester. Castiel carefully saved each one and had tucked each new letter in a leather satchel that he had kept under his bed. On days that were particularly dreary or when he occasionally found his mind in a dark place, he’d pull out the satchel and re-read his favorites over and over again. Dean had a delightful sense of humor that shone through his writings that Castiel could only vaguely remember from his childhood, but it was definitely high up there on his list of things that he was excited to experience in person when they saw each other again. 

Each jolt of the carriage as it passed over the less-than-ideal terrain only increased Castiel’s anxiety as they traveled closer to the Winchester’s castle. His schooling had been deemed complete just two weeks ago, and his parents had almost immediately started plans for another meeting. 

Wedding plans were also in the making, but Castiel wasn’t allowing himself to focus on that yet. One step at a time. 

“You’re being very quiet.” 

Castiel jerked his head up as his father’s voice tore him from his thoughts. As much as he was trying not to let any preconceived notions of what Dean would be like affect him, he couldn’t help but run through dozens of different possible scenarios of their next meeting. 

“I’m nervous.”

Castiel’s father smiled reassuringly. “I don’t blame you, but I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

Castiel was silent for a few moments, watching the trees fly by as the carriage continued onward. 

“What if he doesn’t like me?” 

“He will,” King Charles said, “Don’t you worry.”

Castiel worried. 

‘Boring’ was not an unfamiliar adjective that he’d heard used to describe himself, usually by someone who was tired of hearing him ramble on excitedly over something he’d just read about in one of his books. He’d have to remember not to get too carried away with that sort of thing. 

He straightened the silver circlet on his head for what was probably the tenth time in the past few minutes and peeked his head out the window when he felt the carriage slow significantly. Ahead of them was the Winchester castle, just as majestic as he remembered it. 

Castiel flopped back down into his seat as his nervous tics increased when they entered the city. A few interested people attempted to look into the carriage to see who they could possibly be, but Castiel was almost too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice. 

Within the hour he was going to see Dean again. 

He and Dean will have met and talked and seen each other by the time the next hour was up. 

The thought both terrified and delighted him. 

The next few minutes were a blur. The carriage arrived and he stepped out into the sunlight. The first thing he noticed is that the gardens were in full bloom; heaps of rose bushes pruned masterfully into order and monstrous hedges shaped into majestic birds. While the castle was still very large, it wasn’t as unbearably massive as he remembered- though he supposed that’s what happens when the last memories of a place are from when you were twelve. 

King Charles rested a calming hand on his shoulder when he saw him fussing with his blue tunic. 

“You look fine.” He patted him once. “Now stop fussing. Future Kings don’t fuss.”

Castiel nodded, forcing his hands to stay at his sides as they walked through the familiar front doors of the castle. Castiel had a brief flashback of himself being dragged away through those doors by two of his father’s guards eight years ago and took a deep breath. 

John and Mary Winchester were waiting to greet Castiel and his father as they stepped into the throne room with wide smiles on their faces. 

“Welcome back!” King John said, inclining his head towards Castiel’s father. 

“Thank you for having us again,” King Charles replied, “It’s been too long.”

Castiel straightened his back as the three turned their attention to him. 

“Castiel,” Mary said warmly, “It’s good to have you back.” 

“It’s good to be back,” he said after clearing his throat. 

Mary smiled and pulled him into a hug that he hadn’t been prepared for, but he almost immediately returned it. 

“We’ve missed having you around,” she said softly before letting him go, causing him to flush lightly. “How was your schooling?”

“Wonderful,” he said sincerely, “I enjoyed it immensely.”

Castiel did a quick scan of the throne room, immediately noticing the large elephant that was obviously not present in the room. 

“He’s on his way,” Mary said with a knowing look, “He’s in his room and has spent the past two hours trying to find the perfect set of clothes to wear. Just don’t tell him I told you that.” 

Castiel relaxed and chuckled in acknowledgment, finding comfort in the fact that Dean seemed to be as nervous about this as he was. 

“I promise.”

“Come,” John clapped his hands together and a blond girl maybe a few years younger than Castiel stepped into the throne room. “Jo will show you to your chambers, Castiel.”

Castiel glanced at his father before nodding and following the girl out the entrance of the throne room. 

“I’m Jo, like he said,” Jo turned to smile at him politely, “If  you need anything during your stay here - anything at all - let me know.”

Castiel nodded in understanding and trailed behind her as she led him up a flight of stairs while she spoke.

“Breakfast is an hour after sunrise but if you aren’t feeling up to eating with everyone we can bring it to you.”

She stopped in front of a large, ornate, doorway and clapped her hands together. “This will be your living arrangement for the next week. Everything you’ll need should be in there but if we’re missing anything, feel free to let me know. Any questions?”

Castiel opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again before answering. 

“What’s Dean like?”

Jo blinked. 

“Prince Dean?”

Castiel nodded and shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. 

After a few moments, Jo smiled at an attempt to cover up the confusion that had been present on her face. 

“Prince Dean is very kind. Kinder than I think most people would like him to be. He’s also funny, though sometimes he thinks he’s funnier than he actually is. You’ll like him.”

Castiel breathed an internal sigh of relief at her description. Not that he’s been too worried, but part of him had wondered if perhaps Dean was different on paper than in person. 

Luckily it didn’t seem that way. 

Castiel looked up at the large doorway in front of him, and there was a sudden sense of familiarity about it. Back when he used to visit the castle as a child, he was fairly sure that this was the same room that he stayed in before. Another detail sprung from his memory that made his heart jump. If this was his room, then that meant -

“Jo?”

Castiel turned around as a muffled voice made a sudden appearance from behind the door directly across the hall. 

“Jo is that you? Oh, thank god.”

The voice sounded familiar in a foreign sort of way; like an echo of a memory that seemed just a touch warped and definitely deeper. 

The door flew open.

“I went with the green one. What do you think?”

Dean had grown up. 

The childish round face that he remembered was completely gone and had been replaced with the much sharper edges of adulthood. He’d filled out as well. In the place of lanky limbs grew strong arms and broad shoulders from years of training as a soldier. 

The eyes were exactly the same, just very shocked at the moment. 

“Oh,” Dean said, before immediately straightening his posture. “Hey, I’m - you’re uh - you must be - ”

Jo smiled between the two of them and helpfully cut Dean off. “Prince Castiel Novak, this is Prince Dean Winchester. Your Highness, this is Prince Castiel. You’ve met before but new introductions are always nice.” 

Castiel licked his lips nervously and held out a hand as Dean continued to stare. “Nice to meet you in person again, Dean,” he said, hoping he was successfully masking his nerves. 

Luckily, that seemed to be enough to snap Dean back to reality. 

A charming smile was immediately plastered on his face as he reached out and grabbed the hand offered to him. 

“The pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure.” He shook a few times before letting go of Castiel’s hand and clearing his throat. “So, have you been shown around yet or - oh wait, you probably already know - I mean I’m just assuming but - do you remember your way around or - ”

“Bits and pieces,” Castiel said reassuringly. There was an immense weight that seemed to lift from his shoulders when he saw just how anxious Dean was about getting this right- and it was incredibly endearing. “But not as much as I’d like. I think that maybe a small tour…” he glanced over at Jo who was interrupted before she could open her mouth. 

“I’ll do it!” Dean’s face lit up as he spoke. “I know this place backward and forwards. I can show you around no problem.”

Castiel smiled. “Thank you, Prince Dean. I’d appreciate that.” 

Dean frowned playfully and waved a hand at him. “Hey. You never called me ‘Prince’ in our letters so don’t start now.” He winked and held out an arm, “Just call me Dean.”

Castiel flushed slightly and cleared his throat in an attempt to cancel out the dryness of it. “Alright, Dean,” he hesitantly looped his arm through Dean’s. “Lead the way.”

They stepped forward and headed down the hallway as Castiel tried to calm his beating heart. Their footsteps echoed in the large hallway and seemed to get louder with every passing moment of silence between them. 

They should be talking, right? They should be getting to know each other better. 

“So,” Castiel heard Dean speak up before he could even begin to think of a good conversation starter. “How was the trip here?”

“Fine,” Castiel answered, thinking back on the journey that he’d finally taken again after years of staying away. “It was perfectly fine.”

Fine?

That was really all he could think so say?

“Good. That’s. . . good.” Dean led them around a corner and cleared his throat. “What about your time at that school? Was it as boring as it seemed?”

Castiel shook his head. “Not at all. I won’t say I enjoyed every minute of it, but I learned a lot.” 

Dean hummed beside him as he waited for a response, but apparently, the hum was going to be all. They walked in silence for a few more moments before Dean stopped walking, causing Castiel to stop alongside him. 

“This is awkward, isn’t it?” Dean said and turned to him with a wince.

“Well - I mean - “ Castiel floundered for something polite to say that wouldn’t be an outright admittance to the fact, “ - A little. Yes.” 

Dean sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Sorry, Castiel, I thought that we could just - you know, skip to - “ He shrugged his shoulders. “Eight years was a long time. Even with the letters.”

Castiel nodded slowly. While it had  _ felt  _ like they’d remained good friends through the written word, there was obviously something foreign between the two of them now. Something that time had cruelly taken from them. 

Not to mention the looming wedding bells in the distance that were hanging over their heads. 

“It’s...alright.” Castiel licked at it lips. “We knew this would happen. We just...have to get to know each other again. We’ve changed but hopefully not  _ too _ much.”

Castiel studied Dean as he stared at where their arms were interlocked and seemed to be contemplating something. 

“You’re right.” Dean looked back up and shot him a smile, letting go of Castiel’s arm and taking him by the hand instead. “Come on.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow in bewilderment and Dean tugged at his hand insistently back the way that they had come. “What are you-” He looked around as he saw the familiar bedroom doors but no sign of Jo. “What are you doing?”

Dean swung the door open to his room, revealing a room that looked a lot more modest than he’d been expecting. Sure, there was a large bed in one of the corners of the room that was obviously draped in some sort of silk and a large ornate window that overlooked the courtyard - both things that Castiel remembered from his visits years ago - but anything that looked as though Dean had some control over it was relatively simple. 

There was a small desk next to the bed with a leather-bound book lying on top and a simple dresser across the room from the window. 

Castiel froze in place as he watched Dean finally let go of Castiel’s hand and make his way over to the bed, yanking the top blanket off.  “I - uh - what are you -” 

Dean paused, looking up at him in confusion before recognition of what he was doing seemed to dawn on his face. 

“No, no, no - “ Dean shook his head with a wry smile and a small hint of a blush. “Don’t worry, I’m not - this isn’t what it looks like.”

Castiel relaxed as Dean began to tie the front two corners of the bed sheet onto the poles right in front of them, and he finally realized what Dean was creating. 

Dean took a step back and rested his hands on his hips as he surveyed the slanted fort that now looked a lot smaller than Castiel had remembered. 

Back when he used to visit the Winchesters, Castiel had been given the guest quarters across the hall from Dean’s room, but he’d almost never slept in his own bed once he and Dean had become friends. This fort had been one of their favorite things to construct as soon as the servants had tucked them both in and he’d snuck across the hall into Dean’s room. 

Dean winked at Castiel and crawled into the bed, motioning for him to follow as the fabric roof wobbled precariously. Taking a few steps forward, Castiel peered into the fort in amusement as when he saw Dean hunched over in a failed attempt to fit comfortably inside his own construction. 

Castiel slipped his shoes off and crawled onto the bed with a stifled chuckle. They were far too old for this sort of thing and yet, here they were. 

He crouched down when he felt the fabric above him easily brush his head and smiled at Dean. Though the bed was still big enough to fit the two of them comfortably with plenty of space, the fort has seemed momentous to twelve-year-olds. 

“We used to tell each other secrets, here.” Castiel mused, soaking in the familiar surroundings fondly. “Not very good ones, though. You told me you made Sam cry, once.”

“And that was very traumatizing to me, thank you.” Dean smiled at Castiel hesitantly. “So. Getting to know each other again. I feel like this is as good a place as any.” He gestured to the fort around them, his hand hitting the roof before holding it out to Castiel. “I’m Dean. Dean Winchester. You may have heard of me.”

Castiel took the offered hand with a mock bow of the head and tried to keep his face as passive as possible. “Much, I’m afraid. I hear you’re a skilled warrior though you’ve cheated many times to get that way and you whack unsuspecting old men on the head.” 

Dean put the hand that wasn’t currently in Castiel’s grasp over his own heart, looking  _ very  _ offended. “Excuse you? I did what I had to do like. . . five years ago, first off. Secondly, Benny is hardly that old or that unsuspecting.”

Castiel shrugged smugly. “I’m just telling you what I’ve heard. I’m Castiel, by the way. Castiel Novak.” 

“Ah, yes!” Dean shook the hand vigorously, “I’ve heard of you. Didn’t you drive….what was it -  _ Two  _ scholars insane with your incessant questions about life?”

Castiel shook his head, gracefully retracting his hands. “It was four, but thank you for trying.” 

Dean laughed - really laughed with his head thrown back and his stomach heaving - for the first time since they’d been separated and Castiel was transfixed. 

He waited patiently until Dean was done laughing (over a joke that Castiel hadn’t actually thought was all that funny) and rested his hands in his lap. 

“Right. So. Secrets.” Dean took a deep breath and almost immediately became slightly more somber. 

“You don’t have to tell me any -”

“I’m scared.” Dean was worrying the inside of his lip as he stared down at his lap. “About this whole thing. Nervous as fuck, actually. Dad keeps saying it’s no big deal or whatever. . . but it feels like one.”

A burden that Castiel hadn’t realized had been weighing him down was almost immediately lifted as Dean spoke. He wasn’t alone in his feelings. 

“I just -” Dean took a deep breath shrugged his shoulders, apparently trying to convey something he couldn’t figure out how to voice. 

“Me too.” Castiel reached out and set a comforting hand on Dean’s knee. “I’m nervous, too. But. . . I’m glad it’s you.” 

They smiled at each other, the cover from the blanket above them muffling the light that shone through from the window, but not enough that Castiel couldn’t study the story on Dean’s face.

“We’re in this together,” Castiel murmured, hoping that it would have some sort of encouraging effect. 

Dean’s smile widened as something familiar glinted in his eye. 

“To the stars and back?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow as he heard his own words that he’d written down years ago echoed back to him. Dean had  _ remembered _ .

“To the stars and back.” He repeated firmly.

He could see Dean clearly now.  _ His _ Dean. The one that he knew from before. 

The man that was sitting cross-legged in front of him with a comfortable grin on his face was looking less and less like a stranger. Castiel continued to study him until the Dean from before and the Dean that was here now began to merge into something more familiar. 

Not completely, but enough. 

For now. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 84 years but here you go.

Dean didn’t think he was ever going to get tired of studying Castiel’s face. 

It was different than he remembered, obviously, but also incredibly similar. The eyes that he used to tell Cas were the same color as the sky had settled into a deep, sapphire blue; they were framed by thick, dark hair that Dean was tempted to run his fingers through.

Though the color of his eyes had changed a little, Cas still had the same intense stare that used to unnerve him as a kid - and Dean wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“So, this is obviously the kitchen.” 

Dean was leading Castiel by the arm once more, this time a lot more relaxed in his walk, and stopped in front of a decently-sized pair of double doors. He hummed as he inhaled the aroma of cooked meats and pastries that had been drifting down the hallway for the past few minutes. 

“I’m sure you at least sort of remember this place?” Dean grinned as he remembered all of the times he’d dragged Castiel with him to try and steal Ellen’s pies while her back was turned.

They had rarely succeeded. 

“If we’re lucky, I think Ellen will -” he stopped when he saw Castiel’s raised eyebrow and skeptical look, “What?”

“First place you decide to show me on the tour is the kitchen?” Castiel said, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips. 

“Well, I thought it would be a nice trip down memory lane...” He paused and rubbed at his stomach. “And I’m hungry.” 

He’d been too nervous to eat anything that morning. 

“What a neutral agenda you have.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed the doors open with one hand. Together, they walked into the kitchen. “Technically, the first place on the tour was my bedroom.”

“Which one would argue is an even worse agenda,” Castiel mused, his eyes already flicking around what Dean hoped was a familiar setting. 

Cooks were bustling around carrying different trays and pots of food to different areas of the kitchen, preparing for the large feast that was being prepared in Castiel’s honor. 

“Aaaah, yes. This is the good stuff.” Dean took a dramatic inhale and sighed, always content to be surrounded by food. 

Dean glanced over at Castiel, who was currently craning his neck and scanning the many faces, obviously looking for anyone familiar. 

“Should we find Ellen?” Castiel asked, standing on his tiptoes. 

“Sure.” Dean turned his head when he saw a giant platter of cream filled pastries was set on the counter next to them, and reached out to pluck one from the top. “Or we could just take a few - ow!” 

A large wooden spoon made a sudden appearance, smacking against the top of his hand with no mercy. 

“Eight years and still failing miserably at stealing food,” Ellen crossed her arms in front of her apron and shook her head pityingly. “He’s a lost cause, Castiel. You should get out while you still can.”

Dean scowled and rubbed at his hand, and Ellen pulled Castiel into a long hug. 

“It’s been too long, hun. But we’re glad you’re back.”

Dean watched as the two of them parted, smiling at each other and grasping each other’s arms before letting go. 

“It’s good to  _ be _ back,” Castiel murmured, bowing his head slightly. 

Ellen set down her spoon and took a step forward, nodding her head in what Dean assumed was approval. “My, you sure grew up handsome, didn’t you? Though it was pretty easy to tell that you would.”

Castiel flushed brightly and cleared his throat - though Dean was pretty sure the pink tint was a nice color on him. 

“Yeah, he’s alright, I guess.” Dean smiled wryly and winked when Castiel turned to look at him.

Castiel was absolutely more than alright, of course. If Dean had been asked to create the perfect human being from scratch, the end result would most likely have ended up similar to the man in front of him. 

He sure had lucked out in the fianc é department. 

Oh, Gods. 

_ Fianc _ _ é _ _.  _

Dean wasn’t sure why the revelation threw him off so suddenly; it wasn’t as if this was any news to him. The marriage between himself and Castiel was something he’d known about for years, of course. But now, with Castiel here and a face to put to the title of “betrothed”, everything became very real. 

Dean was going to marry Castiel, whether he liked it or not - and as much as he was quickly leaning towards the former, it was still a shock. 

“I’m very glad to have you here, Castiel,” Ellen patted him on the cheek fondly. “But I have a feast to make for you all tonight and it’s just not going to get done if you boys are here. You’re distracting, and Dean will eat all of it.”

Dean rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively. 

“Alright, alright. We’ll leave you alone. I’m taking him on a tour, anyway.” Dean waved as Castiel looped his arm around Dean’s once more. “We’ll see you tonight, Ellen!”

Dean smiled to himself as they made their way back down the hallway. 

“Does everyone really remember me?” 

He looked over to see Castiel staring down at the ground as they walked. 

“Yeah, of course.” Dean nudged him gently. “You’re not an easy guy to forget, I can promise you that.”

Castiel finally smiled, and a light tinge of pink appeared on his cheeks. 

“What do you want to see next?” Dean asked, “We’ve got the gardens, the throne room, the stables, the library -”

“All of the above, please.”

Dean grinned, only too happy to oblige. 

***

Dean spent the rest of the day dragging Castiel all across the castle grounds in no particular order. Due to his awful planning skills, they would often walk across the entire castle to get to the next item on Dean’s list, only to walk all the way back for the next. 

Luckily, it didn’t seem that Castiel cared all that much.

They took a walk through his mother’s gardens, telling each other stories about events that they hadn’t taken the time to write about in their letters; they took a detour to the stables so that Dean could introduce Castiel to his horse, Impala, and they spent a few hours in the library. Dean could only imagine that their library was a bit of a let down after practically spending eight years being schooled inside one. Still, Castiel had been polite enough to at least fake excitement - and the expression in his eyes when he'd looked at Dean had never lost its sincere contentment.

By the time they visited all of the main points on Dean’s list, the sun was beginning to set and they could smell the scent of a feast in all corners of the castle. 

They arrived just as the last roasted pig was set on the table, and were welcomed by Dean’s parents and Castiel’s father with pleased smiles on their faces. Sam was also sitting at the table, grinning over at the two of them as they entered the room. 

“Hey, Cas!” He waved as Castiel gaped. 

“Sam?” he asked. “Wow. You’re so -”

“Ugly,” Dean finished with a smirk. “I know. It’s a tragedy that we all have to deal with.”

“Ha Ha.” Sam stuck his tongue out. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“ _ Boys _ .” Mary said sternly, before looking over at Castiel with a polite smile. “How was your day back, Castiel? Did you see everything you’d like?”

Castiel nodded as he sat down in the seat next to Dean. 

“I did. The grounds are as lovely as I remember.” Castiel cleared his throat and ducked his head. “Though, truth be told, I saw everything I’d been hoping to see within the first hour after arriving.” 

Dean flushed, realizing Castiel meant him. He threw a glance to his left, trying not to look too pleased; Castiel met it earnestly, with a slight smile.

John cleared his throat. 

“Well, we hope you have a pleasant stay with us, Castiel. We, of course, recognize that this is a political marriage, but Mary and I both hope that you can see us as family one day.”

“I don’t think that will be much of an issue.” Castiel said, nodding his head at one of the servants in thanks. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me my entire life.”

“So, tomorrow,” Dean interrupted in an attempt to change the subject to something  _ other  _ than their impending wedding, “I think I should show you the city. It’s really -”

“Tomorrow you have training.” John said with a raised eyebrow. “As I’m sure you’ll recall.”

Dean frowned. 

Of course, training was something that he  _ usually _ did, but he’d hoped that the arrival of Castiel would make his schedule a little bit more lenient than it usually was. 

“But -”

“But nothing. You’ll have years to talk with Castiel and show him the city. Your swordsmanship can’t wait.”

Dean slumped his shoulders and pushed the food around on his plate, knowing better than to argue with his father. They could talk tomorrow evening at the very least, and he  _ was  _ at the castle for an entire week. 

Castiel smiled into his cup as he took a sip of water, setting it back down with a sigh. 

“I think I’ll be able find something to entertain myself with,” he said, smoothing the moment over.

***

“You know, you don’t have to sit here all day.” Dean said as he adjusted the straps on his armor. 

The sound of metal clashing together was already ringing in the air as the rest of the soldiers that Benny was training started practicing before he arrived. Dean had expected Castiel to spend the next day in the library but he’d been surprised to find him waiting outside his bedroom door in the morning. 

“I choose to,” Castiel replied, eyes darting around the arena as he tried to absorb as much information as possible. It was something that Dean had noticed about him recently that he hadn’t when they were kids. Castiel had always been considered the smart one out of the two of them, but Dean hadn’t realized just how much Castiel was constantly internalizing. He was sizing everyone up. Taking notes. Paying attention to details. 

He’d make a good king. 

“Well, if you get bored, I won’t be offended if you leave.”

Castiel nodded as he leaned against the back fence. “Noted.”

Dean looked back as the clanging stopped and Benny entered the arena. 

“Talk to you later.” Dean grinned and threw a wink at him, just for the hell of it. 

Benny had been training him for eight years now, both in a group setting, and one-on-one. When he’d first started, Dean had been given a wooden stick to train with and hadn’t been allowed to touch anything metallic until he’d mastered moving with it. 

In all eight years of training, Benny had never once taken it easy on him - a fact that Dean had learned to appreciate. 

“Pair up!” Benny barked, striding towards them. 

Dean automatically shifted towards Max - one of the soldiers that he’d been training with for the past year or so. He was fair in a fight and didn’t hold back just because he was a prince. 

“Run through the maneuvers from last week before we move on. I’m not convinced most of you have the footwork right, yet.” 

Dean planted his feet firmly into the ground and faced his opponent, gripping his sword tightly in his hands. 

A shrill whistle split the air and Dean moved forwards, keeping his steps in time to the counting in his head as he swung at Max’s side, only to be parried as they had practiced. 

“Cole, you’re off. Run through it four more times without stopping. Uriel, you’re getting there. You’re just stepping forwards a little too soon.” 

Dean stepped back as Benny gave him a nod of acknowledgement. He spared a quick glance in Castiel’s direction and saw that he seemed to be following along with the movements, his feet mimicking the steps Dean had just practiced. 

“Prince Castiel, isn’t it?”

Dean jerked his gaze back towards Benny as saw that he was also looking at him curiously. 

“Yes.” Castiel brought his feet back to a natural position, looking a little embarrassed that he’d been caught copying the techniques. 

Benny waved his hand, gesturing for Castiel to come into the arena. 

“Do you know much about swordfighting?” 

Castiel cleared his throat and stepped forward. 

“Just in theory. I’ve read some books about it.” 

Benny folded his arms in front of his chest, looking Castiel up and down. 

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to learn some. You never know when you might need to defend yourself.”

Dean watched curiously as Castiel raised an eyebrow and matched Benny’s stance. 

“Oh, I’m fine in a fight. I just don’t know much about how to handle sword.” He began stretching his arms over his head, a small smile playing on his face. 

Dean gripped his swords loosely at his side, switching his gaze between the two. 

“The two things you just said don’t coincide, brother.” Benny shook his head in a pitying way. “The best way to make sure someone doesn’t kill you is to put a blade through them.” 

Castiel paused, considering. 

“I think that’s where our differences are. I was taught that the solution isn’t always brute force.” 

Benny was smiling now, as were several of the soldiers around him. 

Dean was not. 

“Son, sword or no sword, my best soldier here could get you flat on your back in ten seconds because of brute force. You wouldn’t even know what hit you before it was too late.”

“By all means,” Castiel shrugged. “Send me your best.” 

There was a ringing moment of silence, before -

“Winchester. You’re up. Sword down and armor off.” 

Dean snapped to attention and stepped forward, his mind trying to catch up to the whirlwind of events that were happening. This was not how he’d imagined his day to go. 

Max helped him shed his armor as the minutes ticked by. Every once in a while he’d spare a gaze in Castiel’s direction and if he was nervous, he didn’t show it. 

The problem was that Dean could easily pulverize him if he wasn’t careful. Castiel wasn’t  _ scrawny _ by any means, but he didn’t have as much mass as Dean did and he’d spent the past eight years studying from books. As much as Dean didn’t want to humiliate Castiel in front of decent amount of soldiers, if he didn’t try his hardest, Benny would know. 

And Benny didn’t accept less than his best. 

Dean chewed on his lower lip as he untied the last of his armor, his sword already on the ground behind him, and strode carefully forward, ignoring the loud cheering and whooping from behind him. It wasn’t often that they had something like this happen during their training, so no doubt the change was thrilling. 

He cracked his knuckles while Castiel regarded him carefully, studying him as much as he studied everything. 

“Hey, I’m sorry about this,” Dean whispered, just loud enough for Castiel to hear him. 

Castiel only smiled serenely before planting his left foot forward and his right foot bent and stationary behind him, holding one hand low in a fist and the other higher and splayed out. 

What the hell kind of stance was that? 

“Me too.” 

Castiel’s smile dropped from his face in the instant the shrill whistle rang through the air. 

Dean lunged forwards, aiming to barrel into Castiel and knock him flat onto back in one swift movement, but Castiel easily dodged away in one swift movement. 

Instead of his forward momentum carrying him past the place Castiel had just been, Dean blew out a huff of air as his feet were knocked out from under him, causing him to face-first into the grass. 

Dean took a moment to stare at the ground beneath him in shock and scrambled back to his feet before Castiel could get the jump on him. When he stood back up, however, Castiel was standing a few feet away in the same weird pose he’d started with before. 

Castiel was - 

Was he going easy on him?

With a growl, Dean shot forwards again, this time just managing to get an arm wrapped around Castiel’s middle. Before he could make his grasp more solid, Castiel twisted out his grasp and grabbed at it, using the momentum to swing Dean back onto the ground again. 

Dean groaned as he looked up at the cloudless sky, feeling the beginnings of an ache in his back. 

Castiel’s face popped into view above him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, a touch of concern lacing his otherwise pleased tone.

Instead of answering, Dean reached up and made a grab at Castiel’s tunic, and to his delight, Castiel looked surprised as he fell forwards. 

He huffed as rolled over, trying to pin his weight on top of Castiel, but Castiel’s legs were already wrapping around his torso and with one, swift movement, Castiel had used Dean’s own weight against him now was now sitting on his chest, a leg on either side, pinning his arms to the ground. 

“Holy shit,” Dean whispered, staring up at Castiel and breathing heavily. “Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

“I was taught three hand-to-hand combat techniques during my schooling. I’m told they came from across the sea and they seem to be fairly effective.” Castiel still hadn’t moved. “But I probably wouldn’t be of much use against swords.”

“Alright, alright,” Benny’s voice broke through the next moment of silence as they simply stared at each other. “Save it for the wedding night, you two. Castiel, I think you’ve made your point.”

Castiel flushed as he climbed off of Dean, reaching out a hand to help him up as well. 

“Dean, get your armor back on and fall back into line.” 

Dean nodded as he grasped Castiel’s hand and smiled at him, feeling strangely proud for someone that had just received a severe ass-kicking. 

Dean began the long task of putting his armor back on as Benny gave Castiel an appreciative nod. 

“You sure are full of surprises,” he said contemplatively. 

Castiel shrugged.

“I try.”

***

The next week went by in rush for Dean. 

He was fairly sure that he’d never spent more hours with another person in such a short amount of time, and that included his own brother. 

Most nights Dean spent staring up at the ceiling, contemplating what life would be like for them after next month when the two of them were married. It was already decided that Castiel would move here with him, so most of the more drastic changes would probably be for Castiel. 

On more than one of the nights, Dean considered sneaking into Castiel’s room like they used to do when they were children - only now if he was caught, there would be very different connotations that he didn’t especially want to deal with. 

The fact was, the more time Dean spent with Castiel, the more he was sure that they were going to get along just fine. More than a small part of him had been worried that they were going to end up being too different from what they remembered, and would clash horribly. 

They  _ were _ different, of course, but not in a bad way. 

They complimented each other almost perfectly.

“I don’t want to go,” Castiel murmured as they sat in the library, tucked away in a corner where none of the other few scholars were exploring. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Dean closed the book he’d been skimming and looked over at Castiel; the open book that he was supposedly reading hadn’t been touched in about five minutes. 

“Hey,” Dean reached out and rested his hand over the top of Castiel’s. “It’s not for too long. You’ll be back here next month and then… you can stay forever, and stuff.” 

Castiel smiled and nodded his head. 

“I know. I’m just surprised by how I feel. I was such a nervous wreck on the way over, I -” he closed his eyes and cringed. “- I was already planning on how to hide how glad I would be to leave.”  

Dean laughed, patting his hand once before drawing it back. 

“Well, I - uh -” he cleared his throat. “I hope you continue to like it here.” 

Castiel chewed on his lip and stood up, choosing to sit in the chair right next to Dean. 

“We haven’t talked about it. The wedding.” 

A small pang of anxiety twinged in Dean’s heart when Castiel said the words. He was right, though. It was a subject they’d been dancing around, talking on the outskirts of it but never touching the actual topic. 

“Yeah.” Dean slowly closed his book and raised an eyebrow. “Did you want to?”

“Are you alright with it? Marrying me?” 

Dean blinked at Castiel’s sudden question, blurted out in nervousness.

“What?”

Dean watched as Castiel took a deep breath. 

“I understand that I’m not the most interesting person. Marrying me is not something that you chose to do, so I just want to -”

“Cas. Who the hell ever told you you're not interesting?” 

Dean shook his head, wishing that he was better with words and crafting them to perfectly describe what he was feeling. 

“If this whole betrothal thing had never happened, and I was able to choose all on my own, I would still choose you.” he murmured, hoping that it was enough. 

Castiel’s eyes grew wide and a light blush of pink tinted his cheeks. 

“Oh,” he breathed. 

“I’m happy that you’re back in my life, and I want to keep you there now that I have you again.” Dean hesitantly reached out to place a hand on Castiel’s cheek, his heart beating wildly as he did so. 

“Are you okay with marrying  _ me? _ ” he asked, a good part of worried about the answer. 

“Yes.” Castiel didn’t move, but his any sign of discomfort was wiped away as a look of fondness replaced it. “To the stars and back.”

Dean’s smiled widened and Castiel leaned in, Dean’s hand cupping his face perfectly to -

The library door opened. 

“Hey, Cas! My dad says - oh. Shit.” 

Dean cursed mentally as he dropped his hand and glared towards the entrance where Sam was standing, looking extremely bashful. 

Teenagers.

“Uh, well. The uh, carriage is ready,” he said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Everyone’s waiting to see you and King Charles off.” 

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel said, with more restraint than Dean would ever have managed. “Tell them I’ll be down momentarily.” 

“You got it.” 

The sound of Sam’s footsteps quickly disappeared down the hallway. 

“We should go.” 

Dean sighed and stood up with Castiel. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t have all of the time in the world later. Next month they would be married and Dean wouldn’t have to worry about Castiel being whisked away after only a week. 

They made their way downstairs and found Dean’s parents and Castiel’s father all waiting for them, some servants packing up the last few items into their carriage. 

“I’ll see you next month,” Dean said, rubbing at his neck awkwardly before holding out his hand. 

Castiel eyed it with an amused smile and grasped his hand, shaking it firmly. 

“I look forward to it.”

Dean waved as Castiel and his father made their way to the carriage, trying his best to squash the ridiculous notion that it was going to be forever until he saw Castiel again. It was only going to be in a month. He could wait a month. 

The carriage doors closed, and Dean dropped his hand. 

“So. You like him.” 

Sam looked over at Dean with a knowing smile. 

“Yeah,” Dean said, staring after the carriage as it began to leave. “I do.”

***

Dean picked at his food that night. The sounds of the thunderstorm that had suddenly swept over the land were raging loudly outside, rain pelting against the roof and wind rattling angrily at the doors. He knew that the carriage Castiel had left in was built to handle all sorts of weather, but he couldn’t help but feel a little worried for them. 

At the very least, they wouldn’t be too far out yet and could have turned back around if the storm got to be too much - and then Castiel could stay for a little longer.

Just as suddenly as the storm had blown in, the doors to the dining room were tossed open, and a man - soaking wet and clutching his arm - was being escorted inside by two grim-faced guards. 

The carriage driver. 

Dean stood up quickly in time with his father. 

“What is this? What’s happened?” 

The driver grimaced and hung his head, his arm hanging limply at his side. Dean frowned as he studied the man’s arm. His hand was barely poking out from his long black sleeve, and it took Dean a long time to find it because the colors matched. The carriage driver’s hand had thick, black tendrils pulsing under his skin. 

“We - we were attacked,” he said, through gritted teeth. 

Dread immediately pulsed through Dean like a wave. If the carriage was attacked, and the driver was here - then where were the passengers?

“Where’s Cas?” 

His voice was barely above a whisper, but still everyone in the room seemed to hear it. John and Mary looked at each other, sharing a look that only they seemed to understand. 

“There was - there was a Darkness.” The driver’s breathing was growing more labored. “It just came out of nowhere on the tail of the storm. It swallowed us. Crushing us. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“ _ Where’s Cas?”  _ Dean shouted, his fists balled up at his sides. 

“I - I don’t know.” The driver ducked his head. “When it was gone I found the king inside… Either grievously injured or dead. The prince wasn’t there. I ran for help… I’m sorry.” 

Mary’s hand flew to her mouth. 

No. 

Dean shook his head. 

_ No _ . 

He wouldn’t accept it. 

Dean almost tripped over himself in his race out of the throne room and to the stables. He didn’t even take the time to saddle Impala. He’d ridden bareback before and his horse knew him well enough to make sure he didn’t fall off. She half-reared, sensing his desperation and a little spooked by the storm, before Dean swung up onto her back and spurred her into movement with his voice.

He rode out into the night, the rain pelting his face as they flew down the road the carriage had taken just a few hours before. Impala's hooves thundered on the soaked road.

The king could be dead. 

Castiel was missing. 

No, he couldn’t be. The driver must have missed something in his panic. His mind wasn’t in the right place. Dean would find the carriage, and Castiel would still be inside, very much alive. 

After an hour of pushing Impala past her limits, he found the outline of an overturned carriage off the side of the road, the wheels cracked but still spinning on their axles as the wind howled around it, a victorious wolf after a good hunt.

Dean leapt off his horse and ran to the carriage, climbing on top of it so he could reach the door. 

“Castiel!” he yelled, trying to be heard over the sound of thunder. 

He tore the door open, and squinted in the darkness. Inside, there was one figure, slumped at an awkward angle and lying deathly still. 

King Charles. 

Castiel was not with him. 

“ _ Cas!”  _ Dean bellowed, staring off into the forest just past where the carriage was overturned. 

It was hard to tell if he was crying as he frantically shouted for Castiel, hoping to hear an answer. His face was already drenched from the rain. 

“ _ Castiel!” _

The wind howled in response. 


	5. Chapter 5

**ONE YEAR LATER**

 

Castiel’s lungs were burning.

His legs screamed with every step he took, and still he ran. 

The limits of his endurance were being tested more than they ever had been before; adrenaline pumped through his system, fueled by the fading of the night, and still he ran. 

He grew more and more frantic the lighter it became, desperate to find his way out of this damned forest. 

Just as he was about to lose all hope and succumb to the screaming of his body, just above the treeline, the tip of a tower appeared. 

A tower that he hadn’t seen with his own eyes in over a year. 

If he had the strength to laugh or cry, he would have taken the opportunity, but doing so would have sapped the last bit of energy he had - so, instead, he ran. 

He was going to make it this time. He was going to reach the castle. 

Castiel could almost picture Dean’s face again; he hadn’t had nearly enough time to memorize his features before it had all been cruelly taken away from him. 

Just as he allowed himself to consider the possibility of a reunion - just as he could almost see the expression in Dean's eyes as their gazes met - sunlight peeked out from behind the horizon. 

“No -” Castiel said, the word gasped out on the end of a harsh breath, feeling the last bit of hope within him vanish with the night. 

He pumped his legs harder, fighting against the finality of his fate. He was  _ so close. _ He’d come  _ too far  _ to have this all taken away from him now.

The suggestion of sun grew to certainty in the sky - and the moment he felt the warmth against his skin, he felt the familiar chill down his spine as the change began. 

Castiel collapsed to the ground as his skin began to crawl and shift with a burning stretch as he shifted forms against his will. He let out one last rasping shout - a feeble protest against the inevitable - and rose straining into the air, his new form giving him the flight that he never asked for. 

The castle came into better view the higher he ascended, but now it was pointless. 

There was nothing he could do now except make his way back to the barrier, and wait for nightfall - when he could try again.

***

Cruelty was the entire basis, axis, and crux of the curse that now encompassed Castiel’s life. 

He should have known that he would be  _ just _ far enough away from the Winchester’s kingdom that he could  _ almost  _ reach it if he ran from dusk until dawn, close enough to taste the hope that burned slowly in the back of his mind, but not enough for it to make a difference. 

Castiel flapped his wings - flight was something that he’d had to get used to over the past year - and made his way back into the deep part of the forest. 

The wings he’d been given were also cruel. Wings gave him a false sense of freedom and teased at the distance he could now travel if he wanted. The wings lied. He could travel anywhere he’d like - but trapped in this form, no one would know to help him. 

Castiel had learned that people tended to ignore owls - or, worse, fear them.

It took a much shorter time to fly back the way he came, which made his exhausting journey on foot seem almost laughable. He shook he head as he flapped his wings. He wasn’t going to let it get to him. 

That was what she wanted, and he wasn’t going to give it to her. 

Castiel’s keen eyes saw the river up ahead long before his human eyes would have been able to, and he felt the familiar wall of magic as he flew across the steady stream, causing a him to shiver. He passed the trees overhead until he reached the clearing in the center of it all. A small stone cottage stood out in the center, next to clear pond that shimmered in the sunlight. Castiel ignored them both and landed in the large, lone tree sitting just next to the shallows.

He was exhausted. 

After an entire night spent running and the emotional toll his failure had done on him, he was ready to curl up into trunk and sleep his failure away for the next few hours. 

“Oh, Castiel. You were so close, weren’t you?” 

Castiel’s eyes snapped open when he heard the familiar voice, felt the eerie chill wrap around him, and saw a thick cloud of Darkness fall from the sky before settling onto the ground and wrapping itself together until it formed a human woman in a dark dress. She brushed her freshly formed hair aside and smiled up at him in an almost pitying way, but Castiel knew there was no empathy for him found in any bone in her body. 

Amara. 

“I can sense it on you. The disappointment.” She looked up at where he perched in the tree and shook her head slowly. “You’re going to keep trying though, aren’t you? ‘Maybe if I run faster’, you’ll say. ‘Maybe this time’.” 

Castiel closed his eyes and turned his head away so he didn’t have to look at her cold, dead eyes. 

“You won’t ever reach the castle before you transform. I made sure of that.”

Castiel squeezed his eyes closed tighter, wishing that it could block out the sound of her voice. 

“Even as I tell you this, I know you won’t listen. How many days did you spend outside of that boy’s window before you realized I was right?” 

No. Castiel didn’t want to remember that. 

“Listen to me this time, before you learn the hard way and another rock gets thrown at you.”

Castiel made a screeching sound and launched himself higher into the tree and farther away from her reminders. 

“Fine. Have it your way. But you won’t be like this forever, you know.”

He ruffled his feather and closed his eyes once more, determined to fall asleep, with or without her there to taunt him. He’d heard this all before.

“As soon as the  _ Winchester -” _ she spat the name out. “- marries, you’ll be free of this curse. Your father will not have this alliance. Not while I still breathe.” 

Castiel took deep breaths and sighed when it seemed that Amara had talked her fill. She usually grew bored faster when she visited him while he couldn’t talk back to her, but she still did occasionally - if only to remind him of his fate, and of the only way to break the neverending cycle of transformation. 

The one thing that would hurt him most.

Dean marrying another. 

***

Castiel dozed on and off for most of the day, trying to gain back the energy he’d lost during his run in the woods the night before. 

It was only when the sun began to set that he finally woke up enough to fly down from the tree and settle onto the grass below. It had happened more than once that he’d lost track of time and had been in the tree while the sun had set, and he had found himself clinging to a branch that could barely support his human weight. 

The last of the sun’s rays ducked behind the horizon line and Castiel felt the burning onslaught of stretching limbs, and the uncomfortable vanishing of feathers, as he fell to his knees. He gasped for air. 

Every shift back into a human was a grateful one, as he’d spent far too many nights as an owl because he hadn’t made it past the river’s magical barrier before the sun had set. 

He gripped at his hair as his breathing slowed and opened his eyes, scanning the area of any sign of Amara or her Darkness. Seeing nothing, he stood and ran through possible scenarios for the night. He could spend another night attempting a run for the castle, but he’d already pushed himself harder than ever the night before, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to go any faster. Amara might have been right, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. The castle was too far away for him to reach on foot before sunrise. 

He could use a restocking of his herbs. 

It had been a few months since he’d used the last of them healing his leg, which had been gashed open when the rock had been thrown at him. While he didn’t intend on going back, it wouldn’t hurt to have a fresh supply of more healing herbs - just in case anything happened. 

There was a sharp stinging sensation in his legs and Castiel pulled his pant legs up to find that he had a few scrapes and cuts from running through brush. Nothing major, but he wouldn’t have minded a numbing concoction. 

Herbs it was. 

Castiel made his way out of the grove, gazing as the last bits of sunlight streaked against the clouds on the horizon and wishing that he could see true daylight again with his human eyes, just one more time. 

There was no use wishing. 

He shook his head and began gathering what herbs he could find. 

It had been over a year since he’d read a book on herbal medication and herb lore, but he’d been lucky enough to retain quite a bit of information on which herbs were useful when he came across them, and was able to amass a decent amount.

Castiel’s first month with the curse had been spent denying it. He had been reckless and desperate - he’d missed many of the sunset deadlines and had spent a full twenty-four hours as an owl as punishment more times than he cared to think about. 

The second month had been a bit more thoughtful, though still desperate. He’d figured out the rules of the curse by piecing together where he’d woken up that first night,  the timing of the transformations, and the pile of food that would be left out for him every few nights next to the shallow pond that was always full of clean water. It was halfway through the second month that Amara had revealed herself and had taken credit for the curse. 

Castiel had grown reckless again after that. 

The third month had been spent hoping beyond hope for a rescue. For Dean- for  _ anyone _ \- to stumble across the grove of trees encircled by a poisonous and ever-flowing river with no source and no end. One of her precautions against intruders. Animals passed, clouds passed, but never any humans. It was too deep into the forest and as far as he could tell, not on any usual route. 

No doubt Amara had made sure the clearing she made wasn’t well travelled when she trapped him there. 

It had been halfway through the fourth month that Castiel realized that if he wanted to survive this, he would have start acting smarter than he had been. He didn’t know too much about magic, but he  _ did _ know that all spells had an end, and he wanted to be ready when it inevitably happened for his curse. 

Castiel had gathered herbs and fruits and while he did receive a pile of food of every few days from Amara, as well as a basic home in the stone cottage, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t reliant on her. 

He only ever wanted to think of Amara as his captor. 

Castiel paused in front of of a particularly tall tree about a mile past the river and hesitantly reached a hand into the pocket of his tunic, feeling the sharpened stone he had with him at all times. 

Tilting his head, Castiel surveyed the unmarked tree before shrugging his shoulders and pulling out the stone to carve the same thing he’d carved into hundreds of trees by now, all to no avail. 

He dragged the sharp end through the rough wood, imbuing it with every bit of hope he could muster until his own name stared back at him. 

_ Castiel,  _ the tree now read, flakes of brown revealing the fresh green underneath.

He closed his eyes and pressed his hand against it.

_I’m here._ _Please find me._

***

The nights when Amara would visit the him were among the worst.

A chill would settle throughout his clearing, causing him to see his breath a good thirty seconds before she materialized in his vicinity. 

“Oh, good. You’re here tonight and not running madly through the woods again,” Amara said as she stepped from behind the large tree next to the pond, pausing to grasp at a flower that was just beginning to bloom on one of its branches - causing it to wither into dust under her touch. 

“I have nothing to say to you, Amara.” Castiel continued tying bundles of herbs together on the grass by cottage. “Please leave me alone.” 

“That’s very ungrateful of you, Castiel.” Amara’s steps were so subtle, and the wisps of smoke around her moved with such fluidity that it looked almost as if she glided whenever she moved. “I have fed you. I have given you shelter. I allow you to walk as yourself at night. Never once have I been thanked.”

Castiel bit back the retort he wanted to throw at her, knowing that he would gain nothing from it. 

“Why are you here?” he asked gruffly. He’d learned that Amara usually had a purpose when she visited; something to say. The sooner she left her message or gloated or complained, the sooner she would leave him be. 

“So rude.” Amara paused at the water’s edge, staring into the center of it a few yards away from him. “Maybe I won’t tell you.” 

Castiel tied the knot on the final bundle, saying nothing as he gathered them in his arms and turned towards the cottage, refusing to give in to her goading. 

“Maybe I won’t tell you what I saw while spying on the Kingdom of Winchester today.” 

There was a pause and Castiel slowed his steps. 

“Either you’ll tell me or you won’t,” he said, not turning around. “I’ll wait until you decide.”

There was a brief hissing sound that he assumed was Amara seething, before she spoke again, her voice calm in regained composure. 

“I’ll tell you. Because it will hurt you more.”

Castiel gripped the bundles of herbs to his chest and took a deep breath before turning slowly to face his aunt. 

She was smiling, but there was no life in her eyes. 

“The eldest is to be married, you see. Prince Dean is moving on.”

There was a cold that wrapped its way around Castiel’s heart, starting at his fingertips and travelling quickly until it reached the vulnerability of his chest. 

Amara’s smile barely changed, but Castiel could see the faint glee that his stony silence granted her. 

“He’s going to wed one Princess Anna soon. From the Kingdom of Milton. Not as mighty as the Novaks are -  _ were. _ ” Her lip curled in disgust for a brief moment as she waved her hand and conjured a smoky sphere in her palm, which whirled and grew until an image of a beautiful redhaired woman was smiling at him. 

“She’s rather lovely, don’t you think? Pretty enough to make the prince forget all about you.”

“You’re lying.”

His voice was barely above a whisper as he stared at the image, the cold seeping throughout the rest of his body. 

“Maybe,” Amara closed her hand into a fist and the image dissipated. “But that’s the beauty of it -”

A wave of dark smoke enveloped her, obscuring her image until she reformed just a few inches away from Castiel, her face leaning close. 

“You’ll never know.”

She hovered for a moment, drinking in the look of pain that Castiel was sure was plain on his face, then turned and began gliding back towards the tree as a year’s worth of torment and goading finally reached a breaking point. 

“ _ Why?” _

Castiel threw down the herbs that he’d been working on as he screamed the word at Amara. “ _ What did I  _ ever  _ do to you to deserve this? _ ” 

He was breathing heavily, his fists clenched at his sides as he glared useless daggers as the back of Amara’s ever-shifting form. 

Amara stopped, glancing over her shoulder. 

“Your arrogance has made you think this is all about you.” Amara slowly turned, gazing at him with something near pity in her eyes. “This was never about you.”

“Then why am I here?” Castiel said through grit teeth. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Amara titled her head, as if she was amused by his question. 

“Because you are loved by both the Kingdom of Winchester, and the Kingdom of Novak. One of which killed many I hold dear to me in a war before you were born, and the other of which banished me for trying to gain retribution for that wrong. With you gone, the alliance will never be, and my brother will suffer. Both are things that I desire.”

The anger Castiel felt vanished almost completely as he staggered forward. 

“M-my father? But you said you killed him.”

Amara’s head jerked ever-so-slightly.

“I may have lied.”

Castiel shook his head slowly, his mind reeling from everything Amara had told him while simultaneously trying to figure out which parts of it were true. 

“When Dean -” His voice broke and he almost couldn’t say it. “When Dean marries Anna, the curse will break, like you said.”

He waited, looking for any sign of rebuttal on Amara’s face and finding none. 

“Right? That’s what you wanted. The alliance and the curse is over when he marries.” 

“It is.”

Castiel nodded sharply. 

“Good. Then, when it’s broken, I’m leaving. I’m going back to my father and with the Winchesters’ help, we’ll find a way to defeat you.”

Amara smiled, and that smile widened until she was laughing - a laugh like Castiel had never heard before. The strains of it seemed to echo through the clearing, a dark, cruel sound crawled out from a darker, crueller place.

When her laughter finally subsided, Amara shook her head slowly. 

“Dearest nephew, I haven’t told you my favorite part of this curse.” 

Castiel felt a shiver of dread run up his spine. 

“It’s not the owl. Not the barrier. Not the close distance. Not your desperation. No.” Amara walked beneath the tree once more and plucked a flower that hung from the branches, laying it gingerly against her pale palm. “The best part is the ending.”

The pause was too much.

“... what’s the ending?” Castiel whispered.

“When Dean marries another, the curse will be broken, as promised. It will break… and you?” She turned to look at him, those knife-eyes scoring his face, wanting to watch. She smiled. “You will die.”

She crushed the flower in her hand.

“And then, I will bring your still-warm corpse back to your father and your ex-betrothed, and they will have to live with the fact that you were so close, and your death their fault.”

Castiel picked up the closest stone he could find and hurled it in Amara’s direction with the frustrated shout of someone who had nothing left to lose. 

Laughter echoed once more as Amara vanished, the rock passing through the smoke until the wisps eventually faded into the night. 

It was there, in the middle of the clearing and for the first time during his entire curse, that Castiel finally allowed himself to curl up on the grass, and break down into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting! I appreciate it!


	6. Chapter 6

“Look!”

Dean smacked the long piece of parchment face-up onto the table next to his father’s breakfast, gesturing at it wildly with the other hand. 

The polite chatter had stopped the moment Dean rushed into the dining room, and a hushed silence had replaced it. There was more than one shocked expression at the loud interruption. 

John set down his fork and brushed Dean’s hand away from the parchment as he picked it up and narrowed his eyes at it - holding it at a distance, anger in the line of his jaw. 

“What am I looking at?” he asked, and Dean only barely noticed the disgruntled edge to his voice. 

“It’s the written report from the leader of the squadron that searched for Castiel in the Purgatory Woods.” Dean leaned over his father’s chair and pointed near the bottom of the inked page excitedly. “They didn’t search it all! They only combed through the southern side before -”

“ _ Dean _ .” John rolled the parchment back up and set it to the side before rubbing at his eyes and letting out a long breath of air. “Enough of this.” 

“John -” Mary set a gentle hand on top of his. 

“ _ No. _ We’ve coddled this for too long. He was incredibly rude to Anna when she came to visit and I won’t have it ruining the new contract.” John stood, pushing his chair back and, as Dean grabbed at the parchment again, curling a protective fist around it. “I understand that you were close to him, son. That you may have even loved him one day. But it was still a political arrangement and while I’m sorry that we must make a different arrangement for you, it’s still your duty to comply.” 

“Castiel is missing!” Dean pounded a fist on the table. “He’s been missing for a  _ year _ and with every passing day it becomes more difficult to find him. And all of you will do  _ nothing _ about it.”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me,” John said, his words a careful threat. “We searched, Dean. We searched everywhere. Again, I am sorry that Castiel was never found, but we need to ally ourselves with another strong kingdom soon, or someone like Crowley might start getting ideas.”

“We didn’t search well enough.” Dean’s fist tightened around the report as tendrils of frustration began wrapping around his chest, constricting it. He wasn’t ready to give up. 

“Castiel is dead, Dean.” John reached forward and attempted to place a hand on Dean’s shoulder, but Dean recoiled before the consoling touch could could land. “Or at least, the Novaks want us to think he is.”

Dean’s argument died in his throat as he took a step back. 

“What do you mean?”

John looked dow n, and Dean could see a remnant of guilt in his father’s eyes - before it was wiped away, as he pulled out a different piece of parchment from a pocket in his coat.  

A parchment that Dean recognized. 

That he’d pored over countless times. 

“‘ _ Faking death sounds like an excellent plan to get out of a wedding.’ _ ” John quoted, holding it out for Dean to take, and Dean shrunk at Castiel’s words on John’s tongue. “ _ Though that might be a touch morbid. Perhaps just a disappearance. Leave the mystery open. _ ”

“You read my letters from him?” he whispered, staring at it. The betrayal he was feeling twisted tightly with the doubt that was worming its way through his mind. “Those weren’t yours to read.”

“Move on, Dean.” John dropped the letter onto the ground when Dean didn’t reach out to take it. “Either he is dead, in which case we were right in pursuing a new arrangement with the Miltons - or the Novaks can’t be trusted, and we were still right.”

Dean shook his head slowly. It didn’t fit - didn’t make sense. 

“No. That’s ridiculous.” Dean stared at the ground, trying to make it all fit, but it was as if every piece belonged to a different puzzle. “You think the Novaks are just….what? Hiding him away for the rest of his life? Just to get out of a marriage? They were rational people. Castiel was -  _ is - _ a rational person. If he didn’t want this marriage, he would have said something.” 

“Then... he’s dead.” 

Dean glanced over at Sam and his mother, both watching with pity in their eyes, before turning back to his father - more determined than ever. 

“ _ Missing, _ ” he hissed.

He reached down to pick up the letter, tucked it into the front of his tunic - close to his heart - and strode out the way he came. 

***

Dean ran his hands through his hair in frustration as he paced back and forth throughout the corridors of the castle, not heading in any direction in particular. 

It was  _ amazing _ how much his father refused to see.

The  _ Novaks? _

_ Faking Castiel’s death? _

Dean had heard some incredible conspiracy theories come from his father’s mouth before, but this one definitely took the cake. He hadn’t blamed John for wanting to set him up with another arranged marriage, but now that he knew that it had only done been done because John no longer trusted the Novaks, it left a much more sour taste in Dean’s mouth. 

Anna had been nice enough - from what Dean had seen of her. Of course, he hadn’t spent much time with her during her stay, as he’d been searching through all records looking for something that could lead him to Castiel. Looking back, Dean couldn’t say that he’d do anything different. It seemed unfair to try to court Anna, anyway, when Dean was so desperate to find someone else, someone he truly felt for - it seemed wrong to try to win her affections. 

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets and chewed on his lower lip.

At least all of his searching had led to something, right? The soldiers in the search party hadn’t looked through the whole of Purgatory woods, and they were very close to where Castiel’s carriage had been overturned. 

If there was even the smallest of chances that Castiel could still be in those woods, Dean had to absolutely do what he could to complete the search, didn’t he?

But even if Castiel  _ was _ there, it didn’t explain why he would have stayed in the forest for an entire year without getting help. He would either have made it to the castle months ago, or - or died trying.

Dean slowed to a stop and leaned against the stone wall with a heavy sigh. 

The small doubt that he’d trapped in a box and shoved in the smallest corner of his mind was banging at the walls of its confinement, begging to be considered. 

If -

If Castiel  _ was _ dead…

Then finding his body was still better than nothing. 

At least that way, Dean could start to move on. 

Dean shook his head and pushed away from the wall, starting to make his way towards his room. He tried to rearrange his thoughts. 

Castiel  _ was  _ still alive, and Dean was going to find him. He’d just have to pack up a few things very quickly and sneak out before anyone saw anything and could stop him. 

Dean burst into his room and began packing all of the essentials into a satchel. He could provide food for himself in a forest, so he wouldn’t have to waste space in his bag as long as he brought his bow and a quiver of arrows. Actually, there was probably room for some light snacks. Maybe he should bring -

“Going somewhere?”

Dean whipped around and held the bag behind his back as he faced his mother in the doorway of his room. 

“Mom. Hi. I was... uh -” 

Mary shook her head in sad understanding and held up her hand. 

“Don’t make up an excuse just to lie to your mother. I know what you’re doing.” Mary leaned against the door and shook her head. 

Dean paused, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Mom… I  _ have  _ to go.”

“I know.”

Dean paused and raised an eyebrow. He’d been preparing an argument and hadn’t been expecting her to agree with him. 

“Oh.” 

Mary smiled and folded her arms against her chest. 

“Just… be careful. And if you can, bring him back to us.”

Dean stepped forward and pulled his mother into a hug. 

“I will,” he promised.

***

He rode down the same path he’d ridden the year before to find the overturned carriage, and grimaced at the memory as he approached it. The carriage had long since been removed and any trace of the horrible events of that night had been lost to time. To the right of the path about a hundred yards off was the start of the Purgatory Woods. Rumors surrounding the woods had been ever-present for as long as Dean could remember. Sometimes the reigning theory was that witches lived inside of them, and had placed a curse on the land to doom all who entered. Once, a travelling bard had told him that the Purgatory Woods housed all unrestful souls that refused to leave this mortal plane. 

To Dean, they just looked like woods. 

Dean patted Impala on the neck and clicked his tongue, urging her to stray from the pathway and into the woods. 

There was a small nervous whinny before she complied. 

The moment he set foot into the Purgatory Woods, Dean had to admit that something was off. It wasn’t a feeling that he could pinpoint exactly, but something about the quiet and the stillness twisted his insides. No wonder the previous search party had left before completing the search. 

These woods felt wrong. 

Dean continued soothing his horse as they walked deeper into the woods, looking for any sign of Castiel. Impala’s hooves made a soft beat on the leaves; her ears were flicking constantly, listening. As much as a horse could, Dean felt as though she were creeping along, trying not to be noticed. To be honest, he wasn’t really sure what he was looking for, as he stared around; any potential tracks Castiel made would have long since disappeared, and he had no clue how to track this supposed Darkness that whisked him away. 

It was like searching for a needle in a haystack, when there was a very good chance that the needle wasn’t even in the haystack.

He rode through the forest for hours, calling out Castiel’s name every once in a while - even though he knew no one would answer him. The words from Castiel’s letter rang through his mind over and over. 

_ Faking Death. _

_ Disappearance.  _

_ Mystery.   _

This hadn’t been planned, Dean knew that much for sure, but it was an incredible coincidence that Castiel’s words had come to pass - almost like a prophecy. 

The sun beat down as it reached its peak above him, and the forest was sparse enough where he was that trees didn’t do much for shade unless he stopped to stand in the lee of one of the larger trees. Not to mention the fact that the small amount of water that he’d brought had been all used up before noon had come around. He’d been hoping to pass some sort of water source - a pond or a river - but so far there hadn’t been anything. 

Dean only started growing concerned when he could tell that Impala really needed water. He was willing to put himself through some suffering, but his horse was another matter. 

“I know,” he murmured, patting her on the neck again, “I know, girl.”

He’d chewed on his lip as he contemplated his choices. 

He could head back and fill up on water, but he’d just run into the same problem the next day when he came back. 

_ If _ he came back, at least. Who knows what kind of tails John would have set on Dean when he got back, to make sure he couldn’t leave again. 

They stopped not long after, taking shade under a tree while Dean tried to wrap his head around what to do. Yes, this had been a pointless expedition, but if there had been even a slight chance that Castiel was here, he’d had to take it. The pang in his heart still hurt, despite knowing that none of this was his fault. 

How could it be?

And yet, what if he’d searched harder?

What if he hadn’t done enough to help, in the days following Castiel’s disappearance - and now he was lost forever?

What if his journey into the woods was coming too late?

Dean gritted his teeth and struck his fist against against the tree in frustration, ignoring the painful sting. 

“I’m sorry, Cas,” he murmured, sinking low against the tree. “I know... I should be letting you go. But I can’t.”

For a little while, he sat still. The woods were quiet, deep and strange.

“I can't,” Dean told them again, softly.

He swallowed as he stood back up a few moments later, letting his hand run along the tree. This was probably why his mother let him come out here on this fool’s errand. She knew he’d have to face reality eventually, and what better way than alone in the woods with reality suffocating you?

Castiel was dead. 

Dean took a deep breath and reached out to steady himself against Impala. 

Whatever happened that night had taken him and killed him. 

It was time to face the facts. 

Dean stared at the tree he’d had his revelation under and clenched his fists at his sides, contemplating his next steps. The ending to Castiel’s story had been a terrible one, and he’d deserved so much better out of life. Dean was only heartbroken that he hadn’t been there to share much time with him. 

The tree was more weathered than most trees, Dean thought. It had scrapes and bumps that matched the eerie feeling to the entire woods. Some of the scrapes looked like faces if he tilted his head the right way and some even looked like words. 

Dean paused. 

Well,  _ one _ set of scrapes looked like a word. 

A very specific word. 

Dean rubbed at his eyes, determined to make sure that he wasn’t just hallucinating out of grief, and opened them again - staring at the pattern carved into the bark. 

The marks looked old, but not too old - what had once probably been fresh carvings had browned over time, leaving a very important word. 

_ Castiel. _

Dean took a step towards the tree, running his shaking fingers over the writing as he felt his heart begin to race. 

Castiel had  _ been here. _

Dean took a step back before racing to another tree, searching its bark for a similar message - and wasn’t disappointed.  _ Castiel _ was carved at about the same height on the previous tree. 

Dean spun in a circle, spotting a similar carving in just about every tree could see nearby. 

“Cas!” Dean yelled, his hopes soaring for the first time in a long time. “Castiel!  _ Where are you?” _

Even when silence was all that answered, Dean didn’t let it shake him. 

These names were proof that all of his searching wasn’t in vain. 

Castiel had been here, and Dean was going to find out when. 

“Sorry, girl,” Dean said as he climbed back onto Impala. “We’ve got to go a little longer.”

He grinned giddily as he leaned over to give her another reassuring pat on the neck. 

“We’re so close.”

***

The forest was now tinged with a dull pink from the threatening sunset as he rode, keeping a close eye out for the carvings. There were stretches where the name didn’t seem to pop up on the trees very frequently; then there would be patches where it was carved on dozens at a time. The carvings that really made Dean thrilled were the ones that seemed fresher than the first name Dean had found. Flecks of green could still be seen amidst the browning, and that meant they’d happened fairly recently. 

“Castiel!” Dean kept calling, and his voice was starting to grow hoarse and parched. 

He’d search all night if he had to, but he wasn’t leaving these woods until he found something. 

He smacked his lips together, feeling the toll of spending most of the day without water. If he was hurting, Impala was probably also suffering. There had to be some sort of water source somewhere in this damn forest. 

The pink in the sky turned to orange as they wandered into an area where the trees were sparser, though Castiel’s name was still present on many of them.

And then, very suddenly, there was the sound of running water. 

Both Dean and Impala perked up when it reached their ears, like a soft melody enticing them closer. 

Dean hopped off his horse’s back and led her by the reins towards the sound, wiping sweat from his forehead. 

“Yeah, I can hear it, too,” he said, feeling her pull him onwards. 

And there it was. 

Just ahead of them was a steady river, flowing gently between the trees. It wasn’t the smallest river Dean had ever seen, but he was fairly sure that the gentleness of its rapids make it seem much more compact. If Dean had to guess, its widest point wasn’t much more than eight feet across. 

Dean nearly let out a moan of relief just from seeing its sparkling surface, and dropped the reins that he’d held in his hands. Impala would know what to do now that they’d come to a water source, and he was  _ thirsty.  _

He paused after taking a few steps towards the creek, glancing behind him to make sure Impala was still here. The horse made a soft whinny and took a step back, shaking her head. 

Odd, but maybe she was just getting used to the area before she approached the river to drink.

Dean sighed as he crouched down at the water’s edge and peered at the blurry reflection in the stream, cupping his hands in front of him to take the best sip of water he’d ever have in his life. 

A loud screech burst from the air above him and before Dean could pinpoint the source, he glanced up to see a very large bird diving straight towards him from above, claws extending outwards.

Dean swore loudly and held a hand up towards his face as he fell backwards onto the rocky surface that surrounded the river. He felt a brush of feathers and dared a glance as the owl flew back up and perched itself in a nearby tree, watching him intently as the sun began to slowly dip behind the horizon. 

“What the hell?” Dean muttered, pushing himself back up off the ground and brushing himself off, but not taking his eyes off of the owl in case it got any ideas. It wasn’t anything special - just one of those great horned owls that sometimes hung around the castle - only this one was more agitated than most that he’d spotted before. 

The owl kept his eyes fixed on Dean, but was in constant motion either by ruffling its dark feathers, spreading its wings, or scurrying up and down the branch restlessly - as if it was getting ready to move again. 

Dean frowned and leaned forward again, momentarily taking his eyes off the bird to scoop water into his cupped hands again. 

“ _ Dammit!” _ Dean toppled backwards again as the large owl crashed into his hands just before he could bring them to his lips, before flying off into the tree.

“Will you  _ stop it _ ?” Dean pulled out his sword as he stared down the owl, breathing heavily, more out of frustration than anything else. “I am  _ thirsty. _ It’s been a long day and I just want some damn water without some stupid bird attacking me every time I bend over.” 

He swung his sword a few times for practice, only then realizing the absurdity of him threatening  _ an owl _ . 

Dean grimaced at himself as he re-sheathed his sword and stared at the bird as he tilted its head from the tree across the creek. 

“Just stay there,” he said sternly, keeping his eyes fixed on the black bird as he slowly sunk to his knees and reached a cupped hand towards the water. 

The bird screeched and shot forward again, but this time Dean was ready for it. Rolling out of the way just as the talons flew towards his face, he grabbed a good sized stone, aimed, and launched it towards the owl. 

The gods must have been smiling on him as he threw, because the stone sailed true, hitting the annoying bird in the wing and causing it to screech out in pain as it fell onto the forest floor. 

“You asked for it,” Dean muttered as he bent back down, cupping his hands together to finally -  _ finally -  _ take a much-needed drink of water. 

The moment it touched his lips, however, Dean knew something was wrong. 

The water burned as it slid down throat, magnifying his thirst by a thousand and made him cough until his throat was raw. The burn felt acidic, moving from his throat and coating his lungs - pain, it was pain that his grasping hands couldn't claw out of himself, until all he knew was that he was lying on the ground, finding it more and more difficult to breath as the world slowly dimmed around him. 

His last thought before everything went black was how awful it was to fail Castiel, when he'd come so close.

***

Dean hadn’t been expecting to open his eyes again after that - and yet here he was, slowly peeking them open to unfamiliar surroundings. 

He groaned as he finally opened his eyes enough to stare up at the ceiling (there was a  _ ceiling?) _ , and realized that the burning sensation that had been so brutally overwhelming before he’d lost consciousness was no longer there. A slight ache in his chest was all that remained of pain from before. 

Dean sat up and glanced around him, noticing two prominent things about his surroundings. 

The first was that he was in what looked to be a small cottage of some sort, modest in its accommodations. He seemed to be in the only bed, and there was a copper lamp hung up on the ceiling that provided a faint glow to light the insides of the cottage during what he assumed was currently the nighttime. 

The second thing was a person sitting in a chair next to him, one arm in a makeshift sling and the other holding a clay pot of some kind. 

Dean blinked, not sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him. 

“... Cas?” he breathed, praying to whatever was listening that he was right. The dark hair, though a bit shaggier than he remembered, still framed bright blue eyes that Dean would never forget. 

The man smiled. 

“Hello, Dean.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever and a day my dudes but here you go!

As soon as Dean’s eyes flickered open, Castiel felt as if an immense weight had been lifted off his chest - and he could begin to breathe again. 

Dean was okay. 

Dean was  _ here.  _

Castiel reached forward and wiped some of the sweat from Dean’s forehead with a damp cloth, trying to forget how easily he’d almost lost him - and so soon after just finding him again. Amara’s defences must have been far better thought out than Castiel had realized, as he’d never given the ever-flowing river of tainted water much thought. The animals knew never to go near it, and Castiel had the pond. He should have known that Amara was prepared for anything. 

“Cas, you’re -” Dean held a weak hand up to touch Castiel’s face, before his stomach seized in a way that Castiel was prepared for. 

He held out the pot as Dean leaned over, grabbed at it,  and loudly emptied the contents of his stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel murmured, wincing at the display and reaching for the prepared glass of water he had on the ground next to him. “I had to give you butterfly weed to get the poison out of your system.” 

Dean lifted his head back up, looking confused and slightly miserable, but accepted the glass of water. 

“I - what? What’s happening? Cas, I -”

Castiel shushed him softly and fought the temptation to run his fingers through Dean’s hair with his good arm. 

“You need to rest, Dean. I’ll explain everything later, I promise. When you wake up again, you should feel better.” Castiel dabbed at Dean’s brow again and could already see him giving into the exhaustion that had taken over his body.  He was fighting off toxins from the river and whatever was in butterfly weed that induced vomiting. Frankly, his body had every right to be as tired as it was. 

“Don’t leave me again, Cas…” Dean’s words grew slurred and his head lolled to the side, sleep seemingly overtaking him again. 

Castiel wondered how it was possible that his already broken heart shattered into still more pieces at Dean’s plea. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, finally allowing himself to comb his fingers through Dean’s hair once. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

The words hung in the air, unresponded to, as Dean had fallen back into unconsciousness. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Castiel said again. 

He stayed by Dean’s side for a while longer, studying his face and watching his chest rise and fall, confirming with every breath that he was still alive. After nearly an entire year of not being able to see Dean through his human eyes, Castiel was reluctant to tear his gaze away even for a second, but he had things to do. 

Castiel looked out one of his small windows and felt his heart drop when he saw the night sky growing minimally lighter. 

His time was nearly up. 

Dean was likely going to sleep through the rest of the night, and probably into the day as well. The last thing Castiel wanted was for Dean to think he’d been left yet again, so he needed some sort of plan. Amara hadn’t had the mind to give him any paper during his stay, and he’d already searched Impala’s saddle while she drank from the pond; he’d found a quill, but no paper, so he didn’t have any way to leave a note. 

Unless...

Castiel began searching through Dean’s pockets with his good hand, patting him down until he heard the crinkle of paper against his chest. In a pocket right near his heart, Castiel pulled out a piece of parchment with a sigh of relief. He didn’t  _ mean _ to snoop, but he was desperate for a way to explain himself before time was up.

He wasn’t sure what kind of letter he’d been expecting to find, but he hadn’t been expecting his  _ own.  _

 

_ Dear Dean,  _

_ I am guilty for stealing blankets. I won’t fault you that one. But I suppose we’ll just have to have several blankets for us on the bed so we’re both happy.  _

 

Castiel flipped the parchment over before he could read on, feeling emotion well up inside of his throat when he remembered the happier times. Dean had  _ kept _ this? He shook his head and wiped at his eyes. 

He had to think about other things now - more important things. 

He now had parchment, and a quill, but no ink. 

But he  _ did  _ have some berries picked that he could crush into a paste if he needed. 

And so Castiel went to work. 

Wincing, he gathered the supplies, trying to ignore the dull throbbing pain in his arm where Dean had hit him with the rock - but luckily, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the first time. He’d most likely just have a tender bruise for a while. 

Once the berries were mashed and the parchment and quill gathered, Castiel glanced out the window. His time, short before, was now painfully so. He hurriedly sat down in the middle of his cottage, occasionally pausing in his writing to glance back at Dean. 

 

_ Dean, _

_ I promise I haven’t abandoned you. There is something I need to take care of but I’ll be back at nightfall. I’ll explain everything, then. I want to do it face to face. Don’t try and look for me - I  _ _ will _ _ return. Stay here and don’t drink from the river, but the pond is clean.  _

_ Thank you for finding me, Dean.  _

_ -Castiel _

_ P.S.  _

_ The owl is friendly. _

 

Castiel stood and set the letter on Dean’s chest, hoping that it would be the first thing Dean saw when he woke up. The sky outside grew ever-brighter as Castiel watched over Dean, and he was pleased to note that the color seemed to be seeping back into Dean’s face. 

Feeding someone butterfly weed always had the chance to be dangerous, but it was worth it when the other option was death - and luckily, Dean seemed to be able to handle it. 

Castiel sat in his chair in the corner of the room until the sun finally peeked over the horizon in the sky, filling the cottage with a yellow glow.  

And Castiel began to change. 

***

Castiel perched on the chair for a good three hours into the day, watching Dean toss and turn in his sleep despite the light outside. Getting rid of toxins in the body was no easy ordeal, and Castiel was just glad that Dean was going to survive it. It gave him a sense of grim pleasure to know that Amara’s trap didn’t succeed in the end. 

Just before the sun reached its peak in the sky, Dean opened his eyes for the second time since they’d found each other again. 

Castiel shuffled on the chair, then became still, not wanting to scare him when he’d just woken up. 

Dean sat up, scratching at his head and quickly scanning the room - most likely looking for Castiel, but obviously he didn’t seem to find what he’d been looking for.  

Then, he spotted the letter as it tumbled down his chest.

Castiel watched in anticipation as Dean silently read the note, his face sinking into a small frown of disappointment.

“The owl is friendly…” Dean read aloud, furrowing his brows in confusion. “What owl?”

It was then that Castiel chose to ruffle his feathers and hoot as non-threateningly as he could. 

“ _ Holy shit -” _ Dean scrambled upwards on the bed when he finally laid eyes on the large, dark-feathered horned owl sitting on a chair a few feet away. 

Castiel held still, not wanting to scare him with any sudden movements - which was an odd thing to feel as an animal. Usually things were the other way around, with humans trying not to scare away the wildlife around them.

Dean slowly seemed to come to his senses and relaxed again, though his eyes never left Castiel’s. 

“Uh, hey there... Mister Owl,” Dean said cautiously. “Or Missus Owl. How are you doing?”

Castiel ruffled his feathers again and held out a wing for a brief moment before drawing back against himself, though he didn’t know why he tried. It wasn’t as if he and Dean were going to have much luck communicating in their current forms, especially since there was no way Dean could possibly know the truth. 

“Ah, right...” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry about that rock. Guess you knew better than I did.”

Castiel simply stared back. The wing wasn’t as bad this time. The most it would do was ache as he flew, and maybe prevent long distances for a while.  

“Thanks for - uh, thanks for trying to save me back there. I appreciate it.” Dean cleared his throat. “So, you’re a friend of Castiel’s, huh?” 

Castiel tilted his head to the side and hooted, pleased that Dean didn’t seem to have any qualms about talking to animals. He recalled Dean often chatting away to his horse while he’d been showing Castiel around the stables, so he doubted it was much of an issue. 

“Any idea where he is?” Dean ventured, crawling forwards on the bed and holding out the letter like he’d probably do to a hound dog that was good at scenting.

The owl made no movements towards him. Dean was, unfortunately, going to have to learn a little about the patience to which Castiel had been a slave for the past year.  

“Listen,” Dean flopped forwards, letter still in hand, “You seem like a smart owl. I’ve been searching for Castiel for a year, and now that I’ve finally found him, I don’t want to lose him again. Can you please like… point a wing in his direction or something?”

Had Dean really been searching for him for the whole year?

Castiel fluttered off the chair with a minimum amount of pain, figuring now was the time to get Dean rehydrated; he wasn’t sure if Dean was going to do it on his own. He’d lost a lot of fluids thanks to the butterfly weed. 

Dean excitedly threw the blanket off himself and grabbed the letter before following after him, and Castiel only felt a little bit bad about giving him false hope. 

Castiel glanced behind him as he more or less waddled out towards the pond where Impala was already drinking, pausing when he saw Dean had stopped to gape at the clearing around him. It was beautiful, Castiel supposed. The pond shimmered in the sunlight and the large tree next to it stretched proudly towards the sky. The trees surrounding the glade created a nearly perfect circle and the entire atmosphere almost felt ethereal. This small corner of paradise was too golden, too dreamy to be true. 

However, a cage was still a cage, no matter how beautiful. 

He hopped over to the pond, dipping his beak into the water for a few moments before straightening back up and staring at Dean pointedly. 

Dean just stared back as Castiel repeated the movement. 

“Oh.” Dean’s shoulders dropped, looking defeated now that he realized the owl wasn’t going to be leading him to some secret lair. “Yeah, I guess I could use some water.”

Dean sat down next to the waterline, crossing his legs in front of himself as he dipped his hands into the pond. He brought it up to his lips, paused, glanced at the owl - and, when Castiel made no move to fly at his face, noisily slurped it down. 

“Yep, that’s much better than the river,” Dean said and continued to drink, apparently getting his fill before laying back in the grass and staring up at the sky. 

If Castiel had only had the correct facial muscles to frown, he would have, as Dean was lying completely still. If his chest hadn’t been rising and falling, Castiel might have been even more concerned. Had the poison not completely left his system?

Dean’s eyes fell closed.

Castiel hopped over to where Dean was lying down and leaned over his face, peering down at him worriedly. 

He hooted, and Dean peeked one eye open with a smile. 

“You really are friendly, aren’t you?” Dean let out a deep breath and closed his eyes again. “I wish you could talk, though. I wish you could tell me what this place is and why Castiel has been here for so long.” 

Castiel took a step back and ruffled his feathers. He wished that too. Oh, he wished that he could spill everything right now - explain to him what exactly happened that night, and why he hadn’t been able to get in contact with anyone.

It would have to wait until nightfall. 

“I just wish I knew where he was right now,” Dean murmured, interlocking his fingers together on top of his stomach. “I hate not knowing. I hate that I finally found him and now he’s gone again.” 

Castiel’s heart dropped, wishing he had a way to comfort Dean and let him know it was alright - that  _ he  _ was alright. Instead, he went to nestle into Dean’s neck, wanting to rub his head against Dean’s cheek in a way that he hoped would be reassuring. It was the best he could do, at least as an owl. Though it was probably just going to be a little unsettling, and not much else; Castiel realized too late that his body was almost the size of Dean’s entire torso, and it would likely just be frightening -

“Whoa -” Dean jumped at the first touch, but soon Castiel could feel Dean’s chest rise and fall rapidly against him. He was laughing. “Hey there. What are you doing?”

Castiel only hooted before pulling away again and found Dean looking at him studiously. 

“Well, whatever happened,” Dean said, smiling to himself, “I’m glad Cas had you around.”

If only he knew. 

Castiel had no one.

***

For the rest of the day, Castiel either followed Dean around or perched himself in the large tree so he could watch over everything that he did. 

It was surreal having Dean  _ there _ and sharing the space that had become his prison for the past year with him. 

Dean quickly grew restless in the hours that followed as he waited for night to fall, and Castiel didn’t blame him one bit. He watched as Dean groomed Impala and made sure she was being cared for, then saw him pull out his sword and start swinging at nothing in meticulous patterns. It was no doubt some sort of training regime he was running through to pass the time, just like Castiel’s own fighting techniques he practised. 

The sun sunk lower in the sky and Castiel became more nervous the closer it got to nightfall. What was he going to say? How was he going to explain? What did he expect to happen after all was said and done? Even if Dean believed him and knew what was going on, what more could he do? Castiel was still cursed, and Amara still wanted chaos. 

Maybe all he’d end up doing would be putting Dean in danger. 

Dean wiped at his brow and sheathed his sword after an hour of killing time and stared up at the dipping sun, and then scanned the treeline. 

Obviously, no Castiel. 

Dean grunted and wandered back over to the cottage and began pacing back and forth in front of it, gesturing to himself. 

Castiel flew down from the tree, his wing still aching - but only slightly - and landed on the grass next to him. 

“-and even though it’s been a year, I still - I feel - I feel the same.” Dean mumbled, kicking at the grass. “I - I just - “

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, electing to lean up against the front of the cottage instead of his continued pacing. 

“I really shouldn’t practise for this conversation,” Dean said with a sigh and patted Castiel on the head once, a little cautiously. “Maybe he doesn’t want this anymore.  _ Me _ , I mean. Maybe… I don’t know. Maybe he met someone else out here.” 

Castiel screeched, staring up at him in offense. 

“Hey, it could happen!” Dean countered, throwing his hands up in the air. “I don’t know! I’m doing worst case scenario, here.”

Castiel shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. Dean’s version of worst case scenario wasn’t even close. 

“I know, I know,” Dean hung his head. “Unrealistic. But I don’t know why he’s been here for a year. Why he hasn’t left.”

_ I’ve tried, _ Castiel longed to say.  _ I’ve tried so hard to reach you _ . 

“All I want to do,” Dean scrambled back up to his feet and bowed to the owl in front of him with a flourish, “is say... ‘Castiel, I know that this was all arranged for us. And I don’t understand what happened to you. But the truth is... I love you. I’m  _ in love _ with you. I didn’t realize just how much until you were gone and I never want that to happen ever again.” 

Castiel’s small owl-heart was doing loops in his chest as Dean confessed, and it was all he could do to keep from taking to the sky and screeching in happiness. 

Dean let out a long sigh, straightening from his bow with a shrug. 

“I... don’t know what else I can say to him.”

The last few drops of sunlight disappeared below the skyline. 

The same tingling that Castiel had felt nearly every night for a year started yet again in his spine, travelling to his wings and claws; a warm but uncomfortable stretching and shifting began to take place as he faintly glowed. Castiel closed his eyes and felt himself grow until the tingling finally ceased, and he opened his eyes again, staring at Dean in his human form. The hesitant smile on his face was a stark contrast to Dean’s wide-eyed and astonished expression at the change that had just happened to the owl he’d been talking to all day.

“What else is there?” Castiel whispered. 

Dean remained frozen in place, looking awestruck and very,  _ very _ confused.

“Castiel?” Dean took a small step backwards, his eyes searching Castiel’s face for answers. The confusion was there, yes, but it was quickly being overridden by something more optimistic and hopeful. “Cas, is that -”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupted, wanting to explain before Dean could jump to any conclusions. “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. I wanted to tell you before but there wasn’t any time. There’s so much to explain and I  _ never _ wanted to leave you alone and -”

Before he could get any further Dean had closed the distance between them in two long strides and had one hand fisted in the side of Castiel’s shirt and the other hovering somewhere around his shoulder. Swiftly, breathlessly, Dean’s face was a mere few inches from his own - so close that Castiel could feel Dean’s breath on his lips. 

“Last - last time I waited to kiss you -” Dean was breathing heavily, like he’d just run for miles to be here, in this moment. “- I regretted it for an entire year. I don’t want to regret it again, Cas.” 

Castiel was fairly certain he’d stopped breathing. 

“Then don’t wait,” he whispered. 

Dean surged forwards and cupped Castiel’s face with his other hand, pressing their lips together in a desperate attempt for contact, connection - anything. Castiel felt the desperation in his touch, and understood completely. He wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist to pull him closer. Dean’s lips were warm against his own, and softer than he could have ever imagined despite their insistence. And they lingered, and lingered - the kiss drew out longer and longer, and the world faded away, until there was nothing in the world but the two of them. No other touch but each other’s, no heat or sweetness but on each other’s lips. There were stars and galaxies in their kiss - things that Castiel had read about and admired, but had been foreign to him until now. It wasn’t until this very moment that the heavens seemed to open to his understanding. 

For the first time, he felt he knew why the night sky burned so brightly. 

_ To the stars and back _ no longer seemed like such a far distance to go. 

“I missed you, Cas,” Dean murmured, once they’d managed to pull away enough to catch their breath, but not enough for Dean to let go of Castiel’s hand - he’d grasped it sometime during their kiss. “God, I missed you so much.”

“I’ve thought about you every day,” Castiel admitted, a sense of relief washing through him at being able to say it out loud - he could barely speak through the roll and swell of his feelings. There were some that he hadn’t felt in a long time, some he’d never felt before. The relief, though, was strongest - at finally being able to  _ talk  _ to someone who wasn’t Amara, at being able to tell Dean how he felt, at taking the first step towards righting this horrible wrong. “How did you find me?”

“I followed your name,” Dean said, and the afterglow of being together again seemed to fade as Dean glanced around them. “But - I don’t get it. What are you doing here, Cas? Why - why were you an  _ owl?” _

Castiel pulled back and ducked his head, staring at the pond as he tried to figure out the words. The story itself was bizarre enough, but if they didn’t tread carefully, he had no doubt that it could end deadly. 

“I can’t leave here, Dean. I’m trapped.”

“Trapped?” Dean asked, his voice laced with concern. “Trapped where? This clearing? The woods?”

“Both.” Castiel sighed and sat down on the soft ground next to the pond, patting the spot next to him as an invitation for Dean to join him. “The night that I left your kingdom, something awful happened.”

“You were attacked.” Dean sat himself next to Castiel, gently slipping their hands together. “By a Darkness.” 

Castiel looked up, surprised at Dean’s knowledge. 

“You know?”

“That’s about  _ all  _ I know,” Dean said with a shrug. “The carriage driver made it back with the story, and we only just got to your father in time -”

“So he’s alive, then?” Castiel asked, his grip tightening in Dean’s hand. 

“He’s alive.”

Castiel nodded, relieved at the confirmation of something that Amara had only hinted at. 

“Good. I was afraid...” He shook his head and continued. “I… I was whisked away by the Darkness that night and woke up in this clearing. It was daytime. I was an owl.”

He paused, waiting for Dean to react, but all he did was stroke Castiel’s hand his with thumb reassuringly. 

“What do you know of witches, Dean?”

Dean frowned and tilted his head to the side. 

“Uh, I know that there’s not a lot of them around anymore. But the ones that do exist are really powerful. We pretty much stay away from ‘em.”

Castiel gripped the grass underneath him with his other hand. 

“I’ve been cursed by a witch. A very powerful one. She’s new, but volatile and vengeful - a terrible combination.” Castiel took another deep breath and began to say words aloud that he never had dared before. “While the sun is hidden, I am myself. I can walk the woods in my human form as long as the sun is set, and I’m inside the river’s barrier when night falls. But, as soon as the sun rises, I turn into an owl.”

“Why?” Dean was whispering now, trying to make sense of it all. “Why you? Why the curse?”

Castiel opened his mouth to begin the explanation, but the words died in his throat when he felt the air around them drop suddenly and significantly in temperature. 

Dean frowned and rubbed at his shoulder for warmth as dread filled Castiel’s chest. 

“Dean, you need to leave. Now,” Castiel said insistently, standing sharply as he surveyed the area. They had about thirty seconds before she materialized. 

“ _ What? _ ” Dean stood too, looking more confused than ever. “Why? We only just -” 

Luckily, Impala wasn’t too far away and Castiel gripped her reigns, shoving them into Dean’s unwilling hand. 

“Listen to me. You need to get to the treeline  _ now. _ Hide there until it’s safe. There’s no time for questions.” 

To Dean’s credit, he immediately climbed into the saddle, though he didn’t look happy about it. 

“Why? What’s happening?”

Castiel shuddered as he felt the bitter cold seep into his fingers. 

“She’s coming.”

And with that, he slapped Impala on the flank, apologizing to her in his mind and praying as she shot forward that they’d make it to the treeline in time. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long stretches of time between updates! In case it wasn't obvious, this is the fic that I work on when I have time in between other fics so the updates will be slower, but they WILL happen :)   
> Enjoy!

The horse jolted forward, and Dean along with it as they raced towards the trees that framed the clearing. 

_ She’s coming. _

She? The witch? 

The witch that cursed Castiel was on her way here?

Dean gritted his teeth and gripped the reins tighter. If that was true then he didn’t want to run  _ away. _ He wanted - no, he  _ had  _ to be there to fight her. Didn’t he? But Castiel had sent him away so urgently...

Impala continued onwards until they broke past the line of trees, and the chilled air almost immediately raised to a more comfortable temperature. Dean could hear the the gentle splashing sounds of a river up ahead. 

As soon as Impala slowed to a stop, Dean jumped from her back and crouched down, carefully crawling forwards until he had a view of the clearing. 

He could see Castiel, leaning against the outside wall of his cottage talking to an unnerving-looking figure clothed in black robes that seemed to wisp delicately near the ends, like she was wreathed in smoke. Her mouth was moving, and Dean strained to hear her words. 

“- wanted to give you an update on the situation at the Kingdom of Winchester,” the woman was saying, her words monotone. She sounded almost dead, stone cold. 

“I don’t care,” Castiel said, turning his head away. 

“Oh, yes, you do.” The witch moved forward, gliding towards Castiel. “Your life depends on it.”

Dean’s hand found the hilt of his sword.

“I’ve accepted my fate, Amara. Just leave me be.”

Amara? 

Castiel’s banished aunt?

_ That _ Amara?

Dean’s hand instinctively flew to his side where the old scar resided from the last time he had a run in with Amara. 

“The marriage is going according to schedule.” Amara continued, “Dean and Anna are getting along wonderfully. It’s almost sickening to watch how well they fit together. It seems as though he’s forgotten all about you.”

Dean clenched his fist, jaw locked. None of that was true! Anna was a fine person, but they’d only met once and Dean had spent the entire week avoiding her, as rude as he knew that was. Not to mention that Anna had left a couple of weeks previous. How awful must it have been for Castiel to have Amara drop by only to feed him lies about everything?

“Well, that sounds splendid,” Castiel bit back, his words full of venom. “I’m sure they’ll be happy together.”

“Happier without you, one might say.” Amara tilted her head, turning her gaze to the clearing around her, and Dean had to force himself not to move. “You realize this means that your time here has almost run out?”

“I’m well aware. Please let me live the rest of my days in peace.” Castiel turned around and walked into the cottage, shutting the door behind him. 

“ _ Peace.” _ Amara said the word resentfully. “You truly are your father’s son. Going on and on about  _ peace. _ One can achieve more in chaos than in peace. _ ” _

There was a muffled voice from inside the cottage that Dean couldn’t make out at this distance, but the tone didn’t sound pleasant. 

Amara raised a hand and a wave of dark tendrils erupted from the vapors that surrounded her, blasting the door back with an anger that starkly contrasted her calm outer demeanor and dragging out a struggling Castiel from inside - raising him a foot into the air effortlessly.

Dean gripped the hilt of his sword and was about to throw caution into the wind when -

_ “Don’t!”  _ Castiel yelled. “Stay where you are!”

Dean halted, but half-snarled in frustration. Castiel was talking to him. 

“No, I don’t think I will,” Amara said, tilting her head to the side. “Because I - unlike you - can move freely whenever I want. You’re just as powerless against me as your entire kingdom is. Pity.”

Amara’s fist unclenched and Castiel was dropped to his knees on the ground. 

“I must be off again,” Amara said, turning away from Castiel and staring up at the moon. “If you use your time wisely, you might be able to get another glimpse of Dean before he marries. Just watch out for flying rocks.”

Dean’s eyes widened, realizing that he’d thrown a rock at  _ Castiel.  _ He’d felt bad enough about it when he knew that the owl was just trying to save his life, but he hadn’t had the time to put that piece together yet. 

But… Amara couldn’t know about that, could she?

“I’ll be back again.” 

Amara waved her hand and the tendrils wrapped around her until she vanished in a smoky haze.

As soon as she was gone, Dean clambered back onto Impala and rode to where Castiel was still on the ground, eyes closed and breathing deeply. 

“Cas? Are you okay?” he asked, dropping down to crouch next to him. 

A smile formed on Castiel’s lips. 

“Everything she’s said is a lie, Dean.” He opened his eyes and stood, Dean copying his movements. “And that’s good to hear.”

“This was all  _ Amara?” _ Dean shook his head in confusion. None of it made any sense. “I didn’t know she was a witch.”

“She wasn’t.” Castiel rubbed at his wrists where Amara must have held him. “When my father banished her, she grew bitter and resentful and eventually found a witch willing to teach her, so that she could get even. As long as I can’t leave, it keeps you and apart, and there is no alliance. This is her revenge.” 

“I’ll kill her, Cas,” Dean growled. “I swear I will. For what she did to you.”

“You can’t.” Castiel shook his head. “No one can. She’s too powerful.”

Dean began pacing in frustration. He’d never faced a witch before, but he’d heard tale of their incredible abilities and sinister magics. As much as he wanted to stab her in the face for what she’d done, he probably wasn’t going to be able to even get close enough to her. 

“Then we’ll break the curse,” Dean said, grasping at any plausible solution, though the only thing he really had to go on was the stories that his mother used to read to him at night. “All curses can be broken, right?”

Castiel turned his gaze back towards the ground, not meeting his eyes. 

“Right?” Dean repeated, reaching for Castiel’s hand and squeezing it. 

“Yes.” Castiel nodded slowly and looked back up. “She - she told me that the curse will break when you marry.”

“When I -” 

“Was Anna a lie, too?” Castel asked, and Dean could tell that he was working hard to show no emotion on his face. 

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck and took a deep breath. 

“Well, not exactly. My parents  _ are  _ trying to form another alliance and they’d still like it to be through marriage.” Dean squeezed his hand again when Castiel’s face fell. “But everything else was a lie! I’ve only said maybe ten words to her total. She’s great and all… but she’s not you.”

Dean rested a hand on Castiel’s face and smiled. 

“Just you wait,” Dean murmured. “As soon as I tell my parents that you’re still alive - “

“No, you can’t!” Castiel was shaking his head emphatically. “Amara watches your castle. If you tell them, she’ll know you’ve found me and we’ll lose any upper hand we may have.”

“But Cas,” Dean dropped his hand, “I’m supposed to marry Anna in a  _ week. _ If my parents knew you were still alive, they’d drop everything to help you.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Castiel said, though he didn’t sound very hopeful. Though, if Dean was being honest with himself, he doubted Castiel had felt much hope in a long time. “But for their safety, you can’t say anything until we do.”

Dean licked his lips as he thought. 

“What if I… marry Anna and then we annul it? That way we can break the curse and then you’ll be free to show yourself again.”

Castiel hesitated. 

“It - it doesn’t work that way.”

Dean frowned at Castiel’s tone.

“Why not?”

“It just doesn’t.”

There was a hesitancy in Castiel’s voice - a lilt to his words like he was hiding something, but didn’t want to be pressed on it. It was probably for the best, however. Dean didn’t really want to have to  _ use _ Anna that way, especially if it wasn’t going to work. 

Suddenly, like a spark starting a flame, the solution came to him. 

“Marry me, Castiel.”

Castiel’s head jerked upwards, eyes wide.

“What?”

Dean took both of Castiel’s hands in his own and tugged him a step closer. 

“Cas, marry  _ me. _ ”

“I - but -  _ what _ ?”

Castiel looked dumbfounded by the solution, but it was so obvious - so easy - and Dean was smiling in spite of himself. 

In stories, curses always had a loophole. Maybe he’d found the loophole for this one.

“You said the curse will break when I get married, right? What if I marry  _ you? _ Then we’ll be married, and the curse will be broken. That’ll work, right?”

Dean beamed at Castiel, squeezing his hands encouragingly as a mix of emotions flashed across Castiel’s face. 

Pity, doubt, and fear slowly seemed to turn something more akin to hesitant hope.

“Maybe,” Castiel said softly, ducking his head so that he was no longer meeting Dean’s eyes, “Maybe it will. I don’t know.” 

“I mean, it’s the best we’ve got, right?” Dean leaned forward and gently pressed his forehead against Castiel’s, happier than he’d been in a long time. They’d finally found each other,  and once the curse was broken, they'd be unstoppable. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Castiel’s eyes closed. 

“You’re never supposed to say that, you know.” 

Dean leaned back and shook his head, feeling too confident in this plan to let that bring him down. It was too perfect of a fit - too coincidental of a fault in the curse for it  _ not _ to work. 

“ _ Fuck _ what we’re supposed to do, Cas. That’s the  _ point. _ ” He rested a hand on Castiel’s face, stroking the cheek with his thumb. “I’d like to see someone try and take you away from me again.”

Dean could see Castiel’s cheeks turn pink - even in the dark of night - as he turned his gaze away, staring into the forest. 

“You have to go,” Castiel whispered.

Dean glanced in the direction Castiel was looking, but there was no Amara, no anything, really. Just a dark forest. 

“After I just said I’m never leaving you?” Dean snorted. “Fat chance.” 

“Not  _ now, _ ” Castiel sighed and took Dean’s hand in his own, tugging him towards the pond. “But. . . soon. If you’re gone from the kingdom for too long, Amara will notice. She’ll get curious, then suspicious, and then there won’t be any chance of foiling her curse.” 

There was truth to Castiel’s words, Dean could feel it, but it didn’t make him want to accept them anymore. The thought of leaving Castiel here alone again - it was awful. 

“I’ll come back, though,” Dean said, content to follow wherever Castiel was leading him. “I’ll make a show of not finding you in public, but I’ll go back out again to search.”

He could see Castiel frowning, mulling it over. 

“I need to make a plan anyway,” Dean pleaded. “I’ll figure out if I can convince a holy man to come out into the woods with me to marry us, or  _ whatever, _ and then I have to come back and tell you.”

“Just… be careful,” Castiel said softly, letting Dean’s hand fall away. “It’s not worth you losing your life over if Amara catches you.”

“Yeah, it is,” Dean said, more confident in those words than in anything else he’d ever said.

“It’s  _ not. _ ”

Dean only smiled and looked over at his still-fiance, content in knowing that neither of them would change the other’s mind, and if the roles were switched he’d say the same thing. 

“I love you.” Dean couldn’t do anything to stop the words from falling off his tongue - as they were already spilling out of his heart. 

Castiel stared at him, like he was drinking in what Dean looked like for the first time. 

Or the last. 

“I love you, too,” Castiel said back, pulling him in. The kiss was a little hard and desperate, Castiel holding onto Dean tightly, his hands betraying his words - gripping Dean as though never wanting to let him leave again.

They stayed that way for a long time, trying to make up for all of the kissing that could have been done during their year apart, and by the time Dean reluctantly broke away for air, it felt like time still owed them a large debt.

“I’m in this with you,” Dean whispered - a promise he’d kept since he was a kid. 

Castiel huffed out a laugh. 

“To the stars and back.”

***

Dean stayed for most of the night. 

They talked by the pond, about events in their missing year and about some hesitant plans to undermine Amara. 

Nothing solid, however. 

One of the first things Dean planned on doing when he got home was  _ extensive  _ research on witches, because while Castiel might think Amara was invincible, Dean didn’t buy it.  _ Everything _ had a weakness; it was just a matter of finding it. 

“You should go so you get back at a decent hour,” Castiel said, after Dean yawned widely while he was laying in his arms as they stared up at the stars. “You’ll need to get some sleep if you’re coming back tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to leave, though.” 

“And  _ I  _ don’t want you to leave either. But we have to think about the future.”

Dean grumbled, though he knew Castiel was right. 

“Fine.” Dean sat up slowly and helped them both to their feet before whistling for Impala.”But I  _ am _ coming back.”

“I expect it.” 

He pressed one more kiss to Castiel’s lips, then climbed up onto his mount with more reluctance than he’d felt in a long time. One last look was all it took to know that if he kept staring, he’d never leave, so he tore his gaze away from Castiel with an ache in his heart.

“Hyah!” 

Impala took off towards the forest towards the way they came, jumping the small stream and leaving the clearing behind in a matter of just a few moments. 

He  _ would _ come back. This wasn’t the end of anything and he wasn’t going to be leaving anything behind for good. Castiel was going to become his husband, and they were going to get their happy ending together, no matter what. 

Dean stared fiercely ahead, only squinting when the first rays of sunlight began peeking through the trees, and threw back his head with a laugh when a dark-colored owl soared overhead a few minutes after, screeching once. 

Castiel wouldn’t be able to follow him for long - Dean knew he was too paranoid for that - but it was nice to know that not even a curse could keep them apart forever. 

***

The welcome Dean received when he returned home was less than warm - not that he expected anything less from his father, however. 

“- and the Kingdom of Milton might think you’re backing out of the marriage if they hear that you’ve gone missing!” John was fuming, glaring at Dean from where he was sitting across the empty meeting room that he’d dragged Dean into. The empty chairs facing him were a silent jury. “Do you realize how disastrous that could be for us?”

Dean held his head high and stared straight ahead, waiting for his father to finish ranting. Once he’d gotten it out of his system, things would go back to normal between them, but it was best to just let him yell for now. Especially since he was so  _ exhausted _ from staying up so late with Castiel.

“Well,  _ do  _ you?” 

“I’m sorry,” Dean said. “It won’t happen again.”

John looked at him for a long moment before sighing. 

“I take it you didn’t find him.”

Dean clenched his jaw, wishing with everything he had that he could tell the truth, let him know that Cas was okay - that everything could go back to the way it was before the attack. 

“No.” 

“I’m sorry,” John said, sounding like he meant it. “I really am, Dean.”

Dean nodded once, accepting the condolences.

His father rubbed a hand over his eyes once and stood, crossing the small room that he’d brought Dean into for his telling-off. 

John paused mid-reach for the door. 

“Anna is arriving late tonight,” he said, his voice losing the pity and growing authoritative again. “She’ll be staying until the wedding. Don’t avoid her this time.”  

And then he was gone. 

Damn. 

Dean ran a tired hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He’d been hoping to have this curse with Castiel sorted before Anna came back so she wouldn’t get dragged into all of the bullshit, but that was looking less and less likely. 

There was a soft knock before the door opened a crack.

“Dean?”

Dean relaxed at the sound of his mother’s voice.

“Hi, mom.” 

Mary leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“You doing alright?”

Dean shrugged and shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers. 

“I  _ will _ be,” he answered, and it wasn’t entirely untrue. He’d be a lot better once he knew Cas was safe. “But I could, uh, probably use some space for a bit.”

Mary nodded. 

“Alright. Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you went to look.” 

Dean had to remind himself not to smile when when he thought back to waking up to Castiel smiling down at him earlier the day before, and had to agree. 

“Yeah, me too.”

***

Dean allowed himself to catch up on a little sleep, napping for a few hours in his room while the day passed by him. It wasn’t as if daylight mattered to him anymore anyway - he could waste as much of it as he liked. Night was all that mattered now. 

A servant woke him after a few hours of sleep, letting him know that he had been summoned down to the the dining area for supper and that the King specifically requested he be there. 

Dean grumbled as he sat up and straightened his shirt, making his way down to where his family had already started digging into the evening meal. 

“Thank you for joining us, Dean,” John said with a curt nod that Dean returned before sitting down in his vacant seat. “Now that we’re all here, Sam? Would you like to tell everyone what you told me?”

Dean glanced over at his brother, who set down his fork and cleared his throat pointedly. 

“Right. So, I was doing some studying with the court astronomer the other day and we noticed something interesting.” 

Dean made a loud snoring sound.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam said with an eyeroll. “Anyway, we were doing some calculations, sort of just for fun, but we realized that we’re going to be having a solar eclipse soon.”

Everyone in the room perked up a bit at that. 

A solar eclipse?

Dean had heard of a solar eclipse before, and sort of knew what it meant, but he didn’t know much beyond the idea that the sun would disappear for a small amount of time.

Going still, Dean’s eyes widened as the full significance of that hit him.

“So, I was thinking that maybe we could have a small festival for it. A celebration of sorts, as these natural phenomena don’t really happen very often.”

“When is it?” Mary asked, leaning forward curiously. 

“Day after next. It should happen just before nightfall, actually.”

“I think we can arrange a small celebration,” John said. “Dean, it would be a good opportunity for you to show Anna around and make an appearance together.”

Dean nodded, but his mind was elsewhere.

“So, a solar eclipse,” Dean murmured, picking at his food with his fork. “That’s when the sun disappears out of the sky, right?”

Sam squinted and tilted his head from side to side, searching for an answer. 

“Not really. Well, sort of. It doesn’t  _ disappear _ , really. The moon just happens to get directly in between our view of the sun, making it look like a large black spot in the sky, and then we have a few minutes of night.” 

A few minutes of night. 

Fragments of a plan started to come together in Dean’s mind. It was going to be reckless - going on little more than a hunch - but it might be his best shot at this, depending on whether or not everything fell into place at the right time. 

“What if -” Dean cleared his throat, glancing over at his father and tried to put on a sincere expression. “- what if we combined the Eclipse festival with my. . . wedding?” 

He kept his face impassive as he felt all three members of his family turn to stare at him like he’d suddenly grown a second head. 

“That way we won’t have to worry about setting up two different parties so close together, and it’ll be one for the history books.”

John squinted his eyes suspiciously, like he was trying to glare the truth out of Dean.

“ _ And _ I’ll be able to get this damn wedding over with faster,” Dean said flatly. “Is that what you want to hear? I had a rough fucking night last night, and I just want to move on as soon as I can.”

“Dean -” Mary started. 

“I think that’s actually a good idea,” John said gruffly. “Let’s plan for it. It’ll be a grand event to get married as an eclipse begins overhead. Sam, do you know how long it’ll be?”

Sam looked hesitantly from John to Dean.

“Um, it should be about six minutes.”

“The actual marriage ceremony can be done in six minutes,” John nodded to himself. “Good. I’ll make sure the preparations are sped up. We can take on extra staff for this.”

John turned to Dean.

“Congratulations. You’ll be a married man, soon.”

Dean smiled back, already imagining Castiel walking into the throne room and taking him by the hand while the sun was hidden from view. 

“Can’t wait,” he said, and he meant it.

***

An hour later, the moment Dean had been dreading finally happened: the Miltons had arrived. 

John had made sure that all four of them waited by the front entry to greet the family as they walked in, and Dean plastered on the best faux-smile that he could, considering the circumstances. The sun had already set, which meant that Castiel had already changed into his human form and was waiting for Dean to show up in the clearing. It was a good few hours’ ride if he rode Impala hard, so he really needed to be leaving soon if he wanted any time with Castiel at all. 

The fact that he couldn’t leave right now made him anxious. 

King Bartholomew and Queen Naomi entered first, with Anna following close behind, all polite smiles on tired faces from a long day of travelling. 

“Good to see you again, Prince Dean,” Bartholomew said with a firm handshake. 

“You as well.” 

Dean pressed a kiss to Queen Naomi’s hand and gave a deep bow to Princess Anna, making more of an effort to be polite this time around. 

“Pleasure to see you again, Princess,” Dean murmured. 

She smiled at him and inclined her own head. 

“The pleasure is mine.” 

“Dean,” John said after a few minutes of pleasantries. “Could you please show Anna to her room? It should be the one across from yours.”

Dean paused, not quite sure he’d heard correctly. The last time that Anna had stayed with them, she’d been in one of the rooms on the first floor, and specifically  _ not  _ the room across from Dean. 

That was Castiel’s room. 

He opened his mouth to protest, then saw his father’s searching look. There wouldn’t be any coddling him this time. This was a test to see if he was really willing to move on. 

“Yes, of course.” Dean held out his arm to Anna a little more stiffly than he meant to. “Your room’s this way.” 

The two of them walked in silence down the hallway, and Dean had a flashback to the first time he did this with Cas. It was awkward then, too - but for a very different reason. 

“How- how was the journey?” he asked as they walked up the stairs to the second floor. 

“Long,” Anna replied. “Very long.” 

He didn’t know what to say to that. 

The silence stretched on after that, all the way up to the door leading into Anna’s room. 

“Well, this is - “

“Dean.” 

Dean snapped his mouth shut at the odd tone he heard in Anna’s voice. 

She turned to face him, folding her arms in front of her chest. 

“You know I don’t want to marry you, right?” 

He stared back at her, trying to read the expression on her face for any sign that this was some joke she was playing on him, for whatever reason. 

“Uh -”

“Well, surprise. I don’t. I’m in the same boat as you, so I hope you’ll think of me as a friend instead of a burden?”

Dean felt his face burn pink, and immediately felt a spark of shame fan within him when he thought of how ignored she must have felt during her first visit. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, ducking his head down briefly in an apology. 

Anna cocked her head to the side, studying him closely.

“I hear you’re in love with a dead man.” 

Dean nearly took a step back, but there wasn’t any accusation in her voice - no contempt for it. It was more like she was simply stating an observation. 

She nodded once to herself, apparently getting all the confirmation she needed. 

“So am I.” 

_ So am I.  _

The words were echoing in Dean’s ears as he tried to make sense of them. Anna was saying that they were the same. 

“It’s different for me, though,” she said with a sigh, dropping her arms down in front of her. “I saw his body; watched as they brought it back from the battlefield and heard them declare him dead. I can’t imagine the pain that hope must bring you.”

There was no pain, now.

Castiel wasn’t dead.

But Anna was right, in a way. If Dean had known for a fact that Castiel was beyond his reach, then he wouldn’t have kept hurting so much and for so long - but he also wouldn’t have kept looking. That’s why the hope was so important. 

“So, I just want you to know,” she continued, reached a hand forward and laying it on Dean’s arm gently, “I forgive you, I understand, and I know you’re going to keep looking, aren’t you?”

Dean finally managed to clear his throat and find his voice. 

“I was - I was going to go looking now, actually,” he admitted. 

Anna smiled, drawing her hand back. 

“Alright. If they notice you missing I’ll just start getting flustered and blushy until they stop asking.” She winked and turned to open the door behind her. “Good luck, Prince Dean.” 

“You can just call me Dean.” He shrugged, giving her a half-smile. “You know, if we’re being friends and stuff.”

“Dean, then.” She nodded. 

“Right, well.” Dean stepped backwards awkwardly. “Just gonna go climb out my window now.”

Anna let out a small laugh. 

“Don’t break your neck. People might think I pushed you.”


End file.
